


The Enys Chronicles

by dismiss_your_fearsx



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Book Spoilers, F/M, Family, Filling in the gap, Fluff, Friendship, Giving the Enyses the attention they deserve, If DH and WG won't write it then I will, Parenthood, Spoilers, post-s5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2020-07-28 15:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20066131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismiss_your_fearsx/pseuds/dismiss_your_fearsx
Summary: Set mainly between the gap between the end of series 5 and The Stranger From The Sea, this multi-chapter fic will consist of various one-shots at different points in the Enyses' lives. Featuring appearances from all our well-loved favourites!





	1. Chapter 1

**December 1802**

*********  
  
The week between Christmas and New Year was always the most peculiar time of year: for the days felt both sacred and secret and yet filled the living with a sense of irritable impatience as they awaited the promise of fresh beginnings the New Year would bring with it.  
  
Along the straight but somewhat uneven road, a black carriage with purple curtains hurtled towards its destination - homeward bound for Cornwall. It stuck out in the silver, twinkling landscape like a thundercloud on a June day.  
  
Inside the carriage, Caroline Enys’ head rested comfortably on her husband’s shoulder. Through her drooping eyelids, she could make out the faint outline of the page of Dwight’s book, which described the effects of blunt-force trauma on the human mind. “I had not planned on taking an afternoon nap, Dr Enys,” Caroline mumbled to her husband. “But your reading material is so tiresome it would seem I now have no choice.”  
  
“You do have your own book,” Dwight pointedly reminded her, a smile colouring his voice. “You could read that if you are in need of some entertainment, my love.”  
  
Glancing down at The Merchant of Venice on her lap, Caroline wrinkled her nose at the idea. In search of greater warmth and comfort, she linked her arm through Dwight’s, who quietly sighed at the disturbance to his comfortable reading position. “As my husband, you are supposed to be the source of my entertainment,” she retorted sleepily, snuggling up to him with a coy smile.  
  
She felt a chuckle vibrate through Dwight’s chest. “I do not recall that being in our vows.”  
  
Caroline yawned widely. “Mm. Consider it inserted.”  
  
Dwight took his eyes off his intriguing reading matter and bent to place a quick kiss into her curls before continuing his research.  
  
Only the faintest drop of drool had begun to gather at the corner of Caroline’s slumbering mouth when she started awake as the carriage jolted and began to rock from side to side; the smooth line of the horizon and countryside grew choppy and blurred out of the window.  
  
“Dwight?” Caroline asked, clutching his arm, alarm rising in her voice as they sharply swayed from side to side.  
  
The medical book thumped to the floor in abandon as the doctor’s arms went around his wife’s waist - acting as the seatbelt which had not yet been invented. “I suspect we hit something,” he called over the noise of the rollicking wheels and churning of gravel and dirt. Dwight held steadfastly onto Caroline, anchoring her and their unborn child down against the comfort and safety of the plush seating, not caring that his own head periodically smacked against the roof or window of the carriage. The only thing that mattered was that she was alright.  
  
As the blundering motion eventually came to a thumping halt, shocked silence filled the interior of the carriage. The vehicle was still upright, but it was now facing east.  
  
“My love,” Dwight fussed as soon as he found his voice, quickly pulling her closer and running his eyes and his hands over her form. “My love, are you hurt?”  
  
Caroline tried to disguise her fear and control her hyperventilation; she did not wish to worry Dwight. “N- no, I do not- think so,” she answered, trying to process what had just happened. Suppose the carriage had flipped over? Suppose they had landed in a river? They could have died! And what of the child? She would not let the creeping feeling of terror overwhelm her.  
  
The doctor’s eyes went over her once again, his mind struggling to separate the roles of wife and patient. His hand went to the small but readily detectable bump on her abdomen, and his concerned gaze met her own. “Have you any pain? Any sickness? Are you faint?”  
  
In truth, Caroline did feel a little faint; but in her bones, she knew the feeling was only because she’d had a fright. “No, no pain or sickness.” She brought a hand to her pounding heart and steadied her breathing for a moment. Intuition told her everything was as it should be. “I’m fine, Dwight, truly,” she soothed after a moment, stroking his stubbly cheek with the back of her hand.  
  
Dwight leaned into her touch and placed his hand over hers; he momentarily closed his eyes, his brows furrowing above them. “Alright,” he acknowledged before releasing a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Wait here,” Dr Enys softly instructed, kissing her hand. He then speedily rose to his feet and exited the carriage, slamming the door behind him. “Damnit man! What in God’s name happened?”  
  
From the comfort and warmth of her seat, Caroline failed to smother a smile at the anger which consumed in her husband’s tone; it always amused her when Dwight grew angry as it was such a seldom occurrence - somehow it did not seem to suit him, no matter how deserving the circumstance.  
  
She heard Williams, one of the coachmen, timidly but defensively explain that patches of the road had begun to ice over and that the wheels had veered onto unsteadier ground and knocked them off-road. In a calmer tone, she heard Dwight accept the version of events and ask them how they were. A soft smile spread across Caroline’s face and warmth pooled in her stomach as she heard Williams and Thomas worriedly inquire how she was.  
  
Having assured the servants that Caroline was uninjured, Dwight returned to the carriage. He opened the door and hesitated where he stood: Dwight knew now he only had one choice, and he did not like it at all. They had passed the sign for the village of Mere a few minutes ago, so The Nog Inn near Wincanton could not now be too far; he could hopefully find both a room and a farrier there.  
  
A simple enough task were it not for the fact he could hardly bear the thought of leaving Caroline alone in the middle of nowhere and in the depth of winter. However, her coming with him in such conditions and temperatures was simply out of the question, and the light was fading fast - he knew he must leave very soon. “My love, I must take the good horse and fetch some assistance in the next town. Will you manage with Williams, Thomas and Horace for guard?” he inquired seriously, his hands resting on the outline of the doorframe.  
  
A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she scratched the rotund Enys pug behind his ears; he had finally stopped quivering with fear. “Of course. All three make a far more suitable protector than you, anyhow, Dr Enys,” she teased. “With what had you hoped to scare away any bandits? Your disarmingly blue eyes? Your ghastly thermometer?”  
  
A warm grin spread across Dwight’s face at her jest; it was a clear indicator that Caroline was feeling like herself. “Very well,” he murmured. “I shall return as quickly as possible,” he assured her, grabbing his tricorn from the carriage floor and placing it on his head before closing the door.  
  
Dwight immediately began to saddle his horse and free him from the shackles of the carriage connection. “Williams, Thomas,” Dr Enys then summoned; he pointed to the carriage behind where the three men stood. “Mrs Enys does not, under any circumstance, leave that carriage, understood?” They nodded obediently. “If I have not returned in two hours then, Williams, you must go in search of help if no other persons pass you by in that time, yes?”  
  
“Yes, Sir,” Williams confirmed.  
  
Dwight looked to Thomas. “Thomas, I leave you charged with the care of my wife. Whatever she wishes shall be hers. If she grows restless or bored, I expect you to put on a one-man show that would impress even Shakespeare himself. You will protect her with your life, is that clear?” Dwight put on his gloves.  
  
Thomas nodded in determination. “Perfectly clear, Dr Enys, Sir.”  
  
“Excellent,” Dwight enthused beginning to finally relax; he shook both of coachmen’s hands in thanks.  
  
Caroline bit her lip as she listened to her husband give his orders to them; she loved it when he practised his authority. It was a wholly inappropriate time to feel lustful, she knew, but she made no apologies for it - it was Dwight’s fault, after all.  
  
“Dr Enys, may I have a word?” called Caroline suddenly, alighting the carriage without awaiting his answer or his permission.  
  
The servants walked around the side of the carriage to give their employers some privacy and struck up their own quiet conversation.  
  
Dwight instantly removed his thick grey coat and flung it around his wife’s shoulders as she stepped out into the unforgiving winter air; Caroline smiled at the action. “What is it?” Dwight wondered, absently taking her hands and blowing hot air into them. “You’re not hurt, are you?” he then asked, his blue eyes widening in panic.  
  
“No, no,” she dismissed casually, her eyes hyper-focused on his lips, which had paled slightly in the chill.  
  
Dwight frowned in confusion. “Then, what-?”  
  
The sudden feel of Caroline’s lips against his own stole the end of his sentence without offering an apology for the theft; her hands clutched the collar of his waistcoat, holding him close. Confused by her actions but not complaining, Dwight returned her kiss with equal fervour and allowed the feelings of relief at her safety and the love he had for her and their unborn child to fill his being.  
  
Once they parted, it was a wonder their moment of passion had not melted all the ice in the southern English countryside.  
  
“I just thought to warm you for your journey,” flirted Caroline, her murmuring lips still brushing against her husband’s.  
  
Dwight’s numbing nose affectionately nuzzled against Caroline’s. “You have succeeded,” he quietly assured her.  
  
They both chuckled at themselves; their breaths went up in icy clouds and dissipated into the crystal sky, which was slowly but surely beginning to welcome dusk.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Dwight registered the changing light. “I must go,” he said, moving to mount his horse, Charlie.  
  
Caroline approached them and stroked Charlie’s mane; she hoped the poor beast was warmer than it looked. “Shall you really return? Or shall you seize the opportunity to escape my clutches at last?” Mrs Enys asked in a tease.  
  
Her question brought a small smile to his face. “I think I shall return, but only if the warmth of the inn is not too inviting, of course,” he joked.  
  
“Of course,” Caroline agreed with a smile.  
  
“Go back inside, my love,” he instructed, his voice soft even through his chattering teeth. “Keep warm. Keep Horace on your lap - perhaps his excessive weight may be advantageous after all,” Dr Enys commented with a smirk and slight eye roll.  
  
Caroline smothered a smile and decided to look offended on Horace’s behalf. “Horace is an old man and cannot move like he used to. It is unfair to insult him in this way.” She pouted for good measure.  
  
Leaning down from his saddle, Dwight placed a kiss on Caroline’s cool lips. “Please relay my apologies to dear Horace,” he said with a chuckle before rallying the purebred Shire and riding off, bound for Wincanton and assistance.  
  
“Dwight!” Caroline shouted after him.  
  
He pulled sharply on the reins and turned himself and the horse around and trotted several paces back towards Caroline. “Yes?” he asked impatiently, eager to get going and find help.  
  
Mrs Enys pulled the woollen coat from her shoulders and threw it across Dwight’s lap. “It is much too cold to be riding without a coat, Dr Enys,” she chided with the ghost of a smile playing on her features. “Suppose you catch influenza?”  
  
Dwight swung the coat around his back and placed his arms through the sleeves, thankful for the added warmth. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured with adoring eyes. “Go inside now, my darling. I’ll be back soon,” he promised before galloping away.  
  
Caroline watched him go a little longer than was likely sensible, waiting until his silhouette completely disappeared over the hill. The tips of her nose and ears began to sting with the biting winter air, and she sniffed, turning back towards the carriage. Dwight would be back soon. In the meantime, perhaps she could convince Williams and Thomas to play cards with her.  
  
Several games of blackjack later, the unmistakable sound of horses hooves sounded in the near distance. Williams abandoned his perfect hand in order to inspect the incoming horse and its rider.  
  
“Dr Enys, Sir,” he greeted professionally, though relief flickered in his tone.  
  
“This is John Mason,” Dwight informed the servant, motioning to the older man who now dismounted the extra horse he had ridden here, “he is a farrier. Would you please show him the problem with Chesnut’s shoe?” Williams nodded. “And would you please ask Thomas to reposition the horses so that we may leave as soon as is possible?”  
  
“Consider it done, Sir,” Thomas said, alighting the carriage, the door of which he held open for Dwight to enter.  
  
Doing so, Dwight then collapsed on the plush seating opposite his wife, his extremities stinging at the change of temperature. He tried and failed to disguise the wheezing of his breath, the cold air had constricted his lungs, and he fought to even his breathing.  
  
Caroline was beside him in an instant. “Oh, my love, you are freezing,” Caroline fussed, trying to warm his icy skin with the warmth of her hands but to no avail. “Such foolishness,” she reprimanded, concern evident in her eyes.  
  
“A necessity,” Dr Enys reminded her, shivering violently. “Would you have left Chesnut out here until morning to freeze to death?”  
  
In reply - and to his surprise - Caroline removed her own warm coat and placed it over Dwight like a blanket.  
  
“Caroline!” Dwight protested; she must keep warm. He, however, was thankful for the added warmth and involuntarily nestled under the fur-lined coat.  
  
Caroline shot him a look that told him the matter was not up for discussion. She began to rub both of Dwight’s arms, encouraging heat to form and spread there. Her attentiveness quietly amused him; she would be a wonderful mother.  
  
Dwight removed Caroline’s coat - which was met with an unimpressed scoff from her - and wrapped around both of them as far as it would cover. They now sat so close together Caroline might as well have been sitting on Dwight’s lap. “How are you?” he asked; he would stop fussing later when they were more settled.  
  
“Tired. Hungry,” Caroline admitted with a yawn. “But otherwise fine.”  
  
“I, too,” Dwight agreed, his empty stomach growling. “The inn is less than half an hour away,” he reassured, “I’ve already paid for the room and supper.”  
  
“Supper,” Caroline said dreamily, resting her forehead against Dwight's. “I do hope there’s soup.”  
  
A murmur of agreement came to her left. “I wager I could kill a man for a bowl of Mrs Bird’s seafood chowder,” Dwight said, which made his stomach growl even louder.  
  
Caroline hummed in accordance with the sentiment before a more delicious meal came to her mind. “Oh, Dwight, think of how wonderful a heaping helping of Demelza’s lamb stew would be at this very moment,” she fantasied, lamenting the fact it could not be.  
  
Dwight let out a soft moan at the thought. “Demelza makes the best lamb stew in the entire world,” he agreed.  
  
“She had better make it for dinner at New Year, or else I shan’t be coming,” Caroline insisted. The Poldark party was the primary reason the Enyses had elected not to stay in London to welcome in 1803.  
  
Just then, an invigorated tap sounded at the door; Dwight leaned forwards and opened it.  
  
“We are ready to go how, Sir, Ma’am,” Thomas chirped.  
  
Caroline breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God!” she exclaimed in reply.  
  
Dwight nodded at the coachman, signalling his permission to leave whenever they were ready. It did not take long for the carriage to trudge from the grass and onto the road.  
  
Instinctively, following their accident earlier, Caroline’s arms snaked around Dwight’s torso and clung to him as a scared child would cling to its mother.  
  
Dwight smiled at the action and wrapped an arm around her, pausing to tenderly kiss the crown of her head. “Just hold fast to me, my love,” he encouraged in a murmur. “I will never allow anything to happen to you.”

* * *

  
“A smaller bed has yet to be created,” Caroline commented once Dwight had joined her in the narrow inn bed. They had retired to their bedchamber for the night immediately after supper, exhausted from the stressful events of the day. At least the roaring fire of the modest rented room indefinitely chased away the winter chill which threatened to seep into their bones.  
  
Dr Enys chuckled in agreement but wrapped his arms around the small of his wife’s waist, resting his hands on the slight swell of her abdomen. “It shall make for a most pleasant sleep, though,” Dwight flirted, pressing against her back for warmth and nuzzling her neck.  
  
Caroline hummed and snuck her legs back under the covers, intertwining them with Dwight’s. “It is a pity it is only large enough for sleeping,” she hinted, mischief colouring her tone.  
  
She felt that her tone had caught her husband’s attention. “Oh?” he asked, sitting up slightly and feigning ignorance. “A pity, you say? Why? Did you have something in mind?” His darkening eyes flickered to her lips as his face lingered over hers.  
  
“I did,” Caroline confirmed, a gleam in her eye as she followed his gaze. She purposely bit her lip so as to taunt him. “But I fear our present predicament renders such a thing impossible.” The sigh that then escaped her lips was not entirely sincere.  
  
“Oh, I think we have survived worse predicaments,” Dwight flirted, running his hand along the curve of her hip.  
  
A low hum vibrated from Caroline’s chest; she traced the line of his collarbones with her fingers. “That may be true. But this challenge could be insurmountable.”  
  
“I’m certain we can overcome it,” replied Dwight with confidence as his lips sought the feel of her soft skin.  
  
Caroline quietly cackled as his breath warmed her throat, signalling his stubborn resolve. “Oh, you’re certain, are you?” she wondered with a raised eyebrow, her teeth exposed as she smiled. “Why do you not prove it?”  
  
As soon as she had announced her challenge, the air around them crackled. Caroline at once felt Dwight’s hands swiftly pull her on top of him, one of his hands dragging the fabric of her nightgown up the length of her leg, the other hand cupping her cheek. Their parted lips brushed against one another’s in anticipation. “I intend to.”


	2. The Reluctant Rest Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Have some future fluff to alleviate the current angst in the show! Though this chapter is chronological, I thought I'd warn you that they won't always be, and will be jumping from one year to another and back again. But I'll always indicate the date at the top for clarity. Thanks for reading! xo

**May 1803**

***********

“I hate you.”   
  
“You don’t hate me, Caroline,” Dwight argued as he helped her take a seat next to him on the chaise-lounge.   
  
Caroline, who put her hand on her large swell in the vain hope that any applied pressure would encourage it to shrink even a little bit, sat down carefully. “No, I do hate you,” she confirmed, feeling like one of Demelza’s prize-winning squashes.   
  
“Alright, you hate me,” Dwight placatingly accepted, not wanting to provoke her in her delicate mood.   
  
Her face contorted in pain as she tried to get comfortable. “Shut up,” she grumbled; Dwight kept his mouth shut. Caroline put her hand to the small of her back and let out an impatient whimper. “This doesn’t help the pain either!”   
  
Dwight’s brows creased in sympathy and he gently touched her arm. “My love, lie this way,” he motioned what he meant. “If you lie across my legs, it will ease some of the strain. And some pillows,” he took the one from behind his back, “when placed correctly, will ensure comfort,” Dr Enys promised, offering his wife a small smile.  
  
“Yes, because you always know better than I,” Caroline scathingly muttered, obeying his instructions anyway. As promised, he placed a small pillow under her back and a larger one against the arm of the sofa for Caroline's head to rest on. She shifted slightly for a moment and then became still, relaxed.  
  
“There, is that better?” Dwight asked hopefully as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear.   
  
It was much better; the pain was hardly noticeable in this position. “No,” said Caroline stubbornly. “My back aches, my feet ache, my ribcage aches, I am both hot and cold, I am fatter than Horace, and my bosoms are practically falling out of my gown. How can you even bear to be seen with me? Never have I looked so unbecoming,” Caroline lamented, self-consciously covering her face with her hand, feeling very sorry for her uncomfortably pregnant self.   
  
Dwight was certainly not complaining about her bosoms, though he did wish he could do more to ease her discomfort. She would not take a single tonic or posset he offered her - even if he were to prescribe it. “I assure you I have never been prouder to be seen with you,” Dwight gently told her, resting his hand on her bump and stroking it with his thumb.   
  
Caroline controlled a smile at the action; she was determined to continue her pity party and for once wished that Dwight would join in and agree with her. “I see your research has affected your own mind, Dr Enys,” she quipped, placing her hand over his.   
  
So, she was feeling better. “Perhaps,” Dr Enys said with a smile. “But is it insanity for a man to think his wife is the most beautiful woman in any room?” he flirted, setting his adoring gaze on her glowing features.   
  
The ghost of a smile appeared on Caroline’s unpainted lips. “It is when she looks like an overgrown cabbage.” Her thumb stroked the back of Dwight’s hand.  
  
Dwight allowed himself a chuckle at the comparison. “Then you may commit me,” he offered, “because I do.” He leaned and kissed her forehead.   
  
Now Caroline smiled fully, her bad mood gone and forgotten. “Careful, I may try it,” she teased, looking up at him; he was such a wonderful man.   
  
Dwight hummed in thought. “Then you would have the freedom to do, say and go wherever you pleased, whenever you pleased,” he heartily advertised.   
  
She had that anyway, even with him. “True,” said Caroline with a mock blissful sigh. “Would you be so kind as to assist me to the desk so I may write to Dr Behenna to inform him that you are a menace to society?” she joked, mirthfulness filling the air.   
  
Dwight feigned consideration and took her hand and gently pulled it upward before stopping. “Hmm. But then our child would never know its father, and that would seem a small shame, would it not? Given my contribution,” he teased with a cheeky grin.   
  
Tears immediately pricked in Caroline’s eyes at the thought. “Dwight, don’t say such things!” she cried seriously; how terrible it would be if he were not there with her - with them.  
  
He blinked at her sudden change of mood. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes slightly rounded. “It was only a jest.”   
  
“No, no, I know, it was funny,” she assured him as she blubbered a little. She then laughed at herself; Dwight joined in. “Perhaps it is I who is insane,” Caroline joked as she wiped away the evidence of a hormone surge. “Maybe I am just overtired.”   
  
Glancing at her with soft eyes, Dwight smoothed her hair. “And you have every right to be so - I cannot imagine how tiring it must be to create life.” Caroline laced her fingers through his. “Though, it is fascinating,” Dr Enys continued. “Did you know that the latest research suggests that-”  
  
“Dwight.” A bemused smile coloured Caroline’s features.   
  
Dwight returned her smile. “My apologies.”   
  
“You are forgiven,” Caroline announced, playing with his intertwined fingers. She then yawned widely and just as suddenly did her eyelids begin to droop. “I’m so weary,” she mumbled.   
  
Dr Enys eyed her carefully; it was not unusual for a woman to be tired at this stage of pregnancy, but it was unusual for the change to be so drastic - he would have to keep an eye on her and ensure she was not sickening for something.   
Despite having lost all feeling from his thighs some time ago, Dwight said, “Why do you not sleep here a while?”   
  
Though the idea was an enticing one, Caroline could already feel her prior discomfort returning and knew that she must move - no matter how much she did not want to. “No, I think I would rest better upstairs. Though I’m not sure my legs will carry me,” she said. “Would you carry me, Dr Enys?” she half-teased, wishing that he could do just that.   
  
Dwight chuckled as he offered his hand to help her get up. “My love, then two of us would have an aching back - and what use would that be?”   
  
“But then you would be forced to rest abed with me,” Caroline argued as she struggled to her swollen feet with the help of Dwight's pushing hand. “Perhaps I shall fall down, and then you would be forced to carry me!” She hummed in consideration at the thought.   
  
Thinking she might just try it, Dwight put his arm about to her waist. “I promise to rest abed with you all day Sunday, but today I must go to the mine,” he explained; many patients were awaiting his services today.   
  
“Ugh, the mine,” Caroline said in a bored tone, rolling her eyes as they left the tea-room. “Sometimes I think I ought to ask my seamstress to stitch me a gown in the pattern of Wheal Grace so that you may pay me some attention.”   
  
Dwight laughed heartily as they began their ascent up the staircase, his hand resting on the small of her back. “That will not be necessary,” he assured her, still chuckling, “I shall be home for supper tonight, you have my word.”   
  
“Ooh, your word,” Caroline taunted with a smile. “My love, have you seen my calendar? I must mark the day that Dr Enys has finally given me his word.”   
  
“I thought you were tired,” Dwight quipped with a soft eye-roll at her teasing. He opened the door to their bedchamber and started as Horace barked at the sight of his master and mistress affectionately leaning against one another.   
  
“Horace!” Dwight and Caroline simultaneously reprimanded; the pug fell silent but waggled indignantly back to his bed in the corner, snuffling in jealous abandon.

Dwight guided Caroline to the bed, frowning as she winced in discomfort as she sat down on the plush mattress. He gathered some pillows from his side of the bed and propped them beneath the small of her back and along the length of her spine; Caroline shuffled against them momentarily before finding a comfortable position. Dwight took the corner of the blanket and pulled it over her torso, leaving only her arms and shoulders uncovered, tucking her in; Caroline smiled at his attentiveness.  
  
“Now, before I leave for the mine, is there anything you need? Anything I can fetch you?” Dwight gently wondered, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips.   
  
Caroline hummed in consideration. “A book?” she asked, looking over his shoulder at the small mahogany bookshelf.   
  
“Which?”   
  
“Surprise me,” Caroline breezily challenged; she would likely not even finish a page, she knew, but it was always nice to have the companion of the written word before drifting off to sleep.   
  
Dwight walked over to the bookcase and examined it thoughtfully, his hands resting on his hips. From the comfort of the bed, Caroline enjoyed the view very much. Having made his selection, he brought it over the bed, holding it aloft, and waiting for Caroline’s seal of approval.   
  
She accepted Mary Pilkington’s _The Accusing Spirit_ eagerly and rested it on her lap. “Thank you,” Mrs Enys murmured; Dwight nodded and smoothed his waistcoat, a telling sign that he was readying himself to leave. “Must you go?” she wondered, a small pout present on her lips.   
  
“Yes, I must,” Dr Enys confirmed. “And you,” he bent down and kissed her forehead, “must rest.”   
  
Caroline’s lips sought her husband’s. “I could rest easier with a proper kiss,” she told him with a coy smile.   
  
Dwight sat on the edge of the bed and readily obliged. “No- long- walks,” he warned her between kisses. Caroline made an absent sound of acknowledgement. “No lifting- Horace.”   
  
Horace scoffed from his bed; how could Dr Enys expect him to walk everywhere? The house and grounds were too vast for his short, ageing legs.   
  
“Yes, doctor,” Caroline affirmed, giggling as Dwight shot her a serious look. “I promise to waste away in bed all day,” she solemnly vowed, offering him a yawn for good measure.   
  
“Excellent,” Dwight enthused, “I’ll tell Bone to have a tray sent to the room on my way out.” Caroline smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I expect a detailed account of your book when I return, and I must warn you, I have read it, so will know if you are lying,” he cautioned with a smile.   
  
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, we all know you have read every book in existence, Dr Enys, there is no need to be such an exhibitionist about it,” she teased.   
  
A laugh escaped Dwight’s lips. “I am not,” he protested with a smug grin. He then grew more serious. “If you feel any discomfort, or require anything at all, ring for Hicks or Bone at once and they shall ensure your comfort. Do not tax yourself going in search of more pillows,” Dr Enys instructed, wagging his index finger in warning. “And if you feel any pain, send for me without delay!”   
  
“Are you still here?” Caroline taunted in a bored tone. “I thought you had patients to see.”   
  
Dwight nearly controlled a smile. “Right now, you are my most important patient,” he said earnestly, “so I must tend to you first.” He set his adoring gaze on her.   
  
Caroline smiled in victory; she had waited years to hear such a compliment. “Consider your duty duly performed, Dr Enys,” she purred sleepily. "You may tend to your miners with a clear conscience."  
  
He kissed her forehead in farewell. “Goodbye, my darling,” he murmured. “Sleep well. I’ll see you for supper.”   
  
Dr Enys softly smiled when he received no reply from his wife, who had finally succumbed to her exhaustion. He lingered in the doorway of their bedchamber and listened to her soft snores for a moment. “Guard her well,” Dr Enys ordered Horace in a whisper, before closing the door behind him and going about his day.


	3. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline’s tormented moans echoed down the corridors of Killewarren, contrasting with the calm summer evening of the outside world. Word had been sent to Dr Enys over two hours ago, but he had yet to acknowledge the letter’s deliverance or appear in person in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, grab a cup of tea, this is a (very angsty, quite fluffy) long one! A hanky may be required. Enjoy! Much love xo

**June 1803**

***********  
  
Dr Dwight Enys had just returned from his rounds at the mine and was pleased that the early morning sunshine which had greeted him nine hours ago still hung in the sky when he found Caroline sitting on a bench in the garden just before three o’clock.   
  
“What a beautiful day,” Dwight commented, listening to the bees buzzing happily from flower to flower next to the path he and his wife strolled on, their arms linked.  
  
“It is,” Caroline agreed, enjoying the feeling of the warm summer sun on her face. “I only wish I were able to ride, it’s the perfect day for it,” she lamented with a sigh, accusingly glancing down at her obnoxiously large swell.   
  
“A short work is quite sufficient exercise in your condition,” Dr Enys warned, already envisioning the madwoman attempting to mount her favourite horse.   
  
“Thank you for walking me every day as though I were Horace,” she quipped, eyeing Dwight from the corner of her eyes.   
  
The doctor’s mouth twisted wryly. “At least you walk more than two paces!”   
  
Caroline laughed before slowing in her tracks, eventually stopping altogether. She blinked and breathed silently through the discomfort. The pressure had begun a few hours ago and had made her drop her fruit spoon in surprise. Thus far, Caroline had elected to ignore it for the longer she did so, the shorter the experience would be. And, she recalled, it would be an experience.   
  
Dwight’s widened eyes examined her carefully with concern. “Caroline?” He put his hand to the small of her back.  
  
“Something in my shoe,” Caroline breezily dismissed, walking several paces ahead of him. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled coyly at her husband. “Are you not coming?”   
  
For a moment, Dwight looked singularly unconvinced and opened his mouth to question her further, before Bone tapped him on the shoulder. Dr Enys turned around and was met by a letter requiring his services; he unfolded it quickly, scanned it and nodded without too much haste or concern. He held up the note to Caroline. “I’ve been summoned to Sawle.” A beat. He stared at her. “I won’t be gone long.” Caroline nodded in understanding and Dwight made to leave before he hesitated and turned around. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, squinting his gaze at her a little as if trying to see through her.   
  
“You mean aside from waddling around like a Christmas chicken?” she retorted, smoothing a hand over her bump, humour and sweetness colouring her tone, disguising the slight discomfort forming in her back and abdomen.   
  
“Caroline.”   
  
She shot Dwight a dazzling smile. “I’m fine, truly,” she insisted, believing her words. He was not needed quite yet; there would be time to help others. “Go tend to your sick people. But do hurry back, Dr Enys, I am quite put out that our walk has been interrupted!” Caroline pouted at her husband to express her displeasure.   
  
Dwight smiled, and his shoulders relaxed a little, convinced by her claim. “I’ll be home as soon as I am able,” he promised before he departed. 

* * *

  
  
Caroline’s tormented moans echoed down the corridors of Killewarren, contrasting with the calm summer evening of the outside world. Word had been sent to Dr Enys over two hours ago, but he had yet to acknowledge the letter’s deliverance or appear in person in reply.   
  
Caroline now regretted making light of the situation earlier as she lay in her bed in the midst of an agonising labour, watching the light of the summer’s day fading into muted lilacs, peaches and cyans out the bedchamber window during those few blissful minutes of relief. Would Dwight be here soon? She could not do this without him.   
  
She writhed on the bed, her body bathed in a sheen of sweat to which her short chemise clung; it curled around the curve of her stomach as it hardened once more into a fist of pain. Her back was in crushing agony; this labour was much more painful and excruciating than the last. Rolling onto her side, she let out a defeated sob. “Dwight- I- I need Dwight!” Caroline cried to her maid, Hicks, clutching the older woman’s arm with all the strength she could muster.   
  
The elderly, childless, woman frowned in despair at the pained young woman on the bed. “Dr Enys won’t be long now, Ma’am, won’t be long now,” she repeated for the third time in half an hour, bending to wipe the sweat and tears from Caroline’s face. Hicks knew little of childbirth except that it was a precarious thing and she felt in her bones that Dr Enys’ presence was needed more than ever.   
  
For the next forty minutes, Caroline’s wails echoed throughout the house so much so that neither woman heard a figure bounding up the stairs two - maybe three - steps at a time. It then burst into the room with such unbridled haste it almost removed the door from its hinges.   
  
“Caroline!” Dwight said in alarm; he was at her side impossibly fast and clutching her hand.   
  
She smiled at the sight of his face and revelled the automatic comfort his presence brought before her face contorted in pain.   
  
Judging by how forcefully she crushed the bones in his hand, she was in more pain than one would anticipate at this stage. “You are an exceptionally difficult man to find, Dr Enys,” Caroline accused, panting softly once the grip of the contraction had released her.   
  
Dwight smiled a little guiltily. “I apologise, my darling. The letter said Sawle, but the house was in Grambler,” he explained.   
  
Caroline nodded in understanding and put her hand on top of his. “At least you’re here now,” she breathed in relief.  
  
Dwight smiled and quickly kissed her forehead. “I’m here now.”   
  
“The pain,” Caroline began tiredly, feeling its onset once again, “Dwight, it is torturous.”   
  
“I knew there was something amiss earlier; I shouldn’t have left,” he berated, annoyed at having allowed her smiles to dissuade the nagging feeling in his gut.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Caroline cried, fear etched into her eyes, “I’m sorry, I should have told you earli-” her words were swallowed by the cry of pain which erupted from her throat.   
  
Dwight physically winced at the sound, and his stomach churned icily. The intensity of her pain at this stage unnerved him. He brought a cool, wet cloth to his panting wife’s forehead and dabbed it carefully.   
  
“How long has she been like this?” Dr Enys demanded to know, his desperate, impatient eyes set on Hicks’.   
  
The maid paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Mistress retired to her bedchamber a little over five hours ago with a ‘headache’,” Dwight looked sharply at Caroline - _five hours ago?!_, “we did not wish to disturb her - we thought she was asleep until she really began to fuss two hours ago, Sir,” Hicks explained, guiltily shuffling some pillows for Caroline, trying in vain to ease her discomfort.   
  
“I do not blame you,” Dr Enys made clear to Caroline’s maid. He then set his narrowed gaze on his whimpering wife. “You stubborn,” he began with gritted teeth; he bent down and kissed Caroline’s temple, “senseless,” he kissed her again, “selfish,” and again, “infuriating woman!”   
  
Caroline managed to laugh at his accusation. “You say that as if it were a revelation to you and not already a known fact, Dr Enys,” she breathed, her tired eyes meeting his own.   
  
“I’m pleased your sense of humour is still intact,” he commented, quickly unbuttoning and discarding his restricting waistcoat and pulling up his shirt sleeves. “I need to examine you, my love, please try to stay still.”   
  
Nodding her head in permission, Caroline tried to relax, knowing it would be less painful that way.   
  
“This may hurt,” Dwight softly warned, “I’m sorry. I’ll endeavour to be as quick as possible.” He kissed the inside of her knee and went about his examination.   
Caroline hissed and swallowed a whimper as his fingers searched for her cervix. Before too long, Dr Enys removed his fingers and blinked several times, hoping his stressed mind was simply playing tricks on him, though he knew for certain that it was not. It would be hours of waiting yet. Could Caroline’s body withstand it? The doctor quietly exhaled, trepidation filling his being.  
  
“Will this be over soon?” Caroline asked him, her tone desperate.   
  
Dwight carefully shuffled back towards where his wife was lying and sat close to her on the bed. He gently patted her hand. “Yes, soon, I think. Quite soon,” he lied smoothly; she needed to have hope.   
  
Caroline placed her clammy hand into his and looked at him with both fear and resilience in her blue eyes. “Hold my hand until it’s over?”   
  
He caught her hand between both of his and ardently kissed her warm fingers. “Gladly.”  
  


* * *

  
Hours had passed, and to Dr Enys’ disappointment and despair, his wife was still not ready to push. Her contractions were consistent and strong and had wrung Caroline’s body free of all the energy it had within. Her voice was near gone from the screaming, which now mercilessly echoed in Dwight’s ears, taunting his inability to do anything but wait. He anxiously paced the room, willing the cloud of panicked fog to lift and clear his mind. He needed to think like a doctor, not a husband, not an expectant father.   
  
“Dwight,” Caroline rasped into the silence, licking her dry lips in the flickering candlelight, “Dwight.” She blindly reached for him, her head woozy from the pain and exhaustion.   
  
She felt him clasp her hand and interlace their fingers; she then felt his warm lips press against the back of her hand. “Yes, my love? I’m here, fear not, I’m here,” Dwight soothed, brushing a damp curl from her forehead and tucking it behind her ear.   
  
Caroline managed a brief smile at this before her smile faded gave way to a more solemn expression; he would not like what she was about to say, but she needed his word on the matter, or she was not certain could not go on. “Dwight,” she said, finding his eyes; they were a little bellow her line of sight as he crouched down next to the bed. His eyes were soft and blue and concentrated and full of concern. Before she could continue her body seized in agony once again and a howl tore from her lips; Dwight controlled his lips from trembling at the sight of his suffering wife, he wished he could swap places with her. He would rather endure anything than watch her go through this for a single second longer.   
  
Once the pain had passed, Caroline fixed her tired eyes on Dwight once again. “If-“ she gasped, “If it comes to a... choice,” Dwight’s hold on her hand slackened, and his jaw tightened, “you must save the child,” Caroline instructed, determination lacing her softly-spoken words.   
  
“No,” Dwight heard himself say; it was not a rejection of her wish, but a rejection that such a dark thought had even crossed her mind. For Caroline to have vocalised it meant that she was truly afraid - it meant that she felt she lacked the strength to see them herself and the child through the ordeal and the thought filled him with icy terror. Self-determination was half the battle in any birthing situation. “No, my love, you mustn’t talk like that, you mustn’t think such things,” Dwight told her firmly, gently stroking her cheek. He then picked up the cool cloth and wiped her brow with it, though his hands now shook slightly. “All will be well, I promise you.” As a physician, he knew better than to make such a promise, but he made it all the same. As a husband, he said only what he so desperately wished to be true.   
  
“Your word - I need- your word,” she moaned as another contraction tore through her body.   
  
A stream of acidic bile rose in Dwight’s throat at the thought of a world without Caroline. He could not entertain such a thing. It did not seem possible. _Without you, nothing is possible_. “You have my word,” he promised in spite of himself, his voice hoarse; Caroline made a noise of relief. “But its use will not be required,” Dr Enys quickly insisted, pressing his forehead against his wife’s which was both hot and cold and sticky with sweat; he did not care. Despite squeezing his eyes closed, Dwight could not prevent a few hot tears bursting through their tired seams, though he tried valiantly. “Forgive me,” Dwight mumbled, hastily wiping his hand across his face. He kissed Caroline’s hand. “I think perhaps I am overtired.” _I think perhaps I am terrified to lose you._  
  
Caroline gently caressed his haggard face while her other hand ran over her swell. Beneath her palm, she suddenly felt the baby kick, which gave her new hope: it was still alive even after all these hours with no progress. She let out a sob-laugh which startled Dwight, who looked at her with undiluted concern. “I felt it,” she whispered quiet enough so that fate could not hear and be tempted. “I felt it.”   
  
Dwight felt a wave of love and relief engulf his body, and he leaned over and kissed her dry, salty lips. There was still hope for them both.   
  


* * *

  
  
As the night continued to grow dark around them, that hope began to dwindle. The long unwelcome fingers of the shadow of death crept their way into the room and waited patiently to her right; the lights from the land of the living shone to Caroline’s left, and she found herself torn between the two worlds, her fingertips almost bathed in the shadows.   
  
In her exhausted state, she could hear Dwight’s muffled encouragements - she could hear him calling for her - and every lilting sound of his voice made her world brighten a little. Always, he brightened her world.   
  
The brightness flashed only like lightning now, and the shadows were longer, more steadfast, like thunder and its black clouds.   
  
To Caroline, the pain of labour was so intense it was almost nonexistent. Almost.   
  
She rolled, writhed, squirmed, twisted on the bed, desperate for the relief that stubbornly refused to come. “Dwight, help me!” Caroline pleaded, crying and clutching his arm, her nails digging into his skin.   
  
“Ssshhh, my love,” Dwight gently soothed, pressing his lips into a thin line to stop them from trembling; he cupped her cheek with his hand. “Ssshh, it’s alright, it will all be over soon.” Dwight sincerely hoped so, but after all these hours of repetition, his words now seemed hollow. Caroline’s complexion was pale, almost paler than the white pillows she rested against. So pale, she was hardly recognisable. If she was not delivered of the child very soon, it was likely that neither of them would live.   
  
Suddenly, Caroline brought a shaky, weak hand to her mouth and paused.  
  
Understanding the signal, Dwight quickly snatched a bowl from the nightstand and placed it under her chin, wherein Caroline then proceeded to vomit up the remnants of her stomach. He balanced holding the bowl with smoothing her hair and rubbing circles on her back as she cried softly at her predicament.   
  
Dr Enys momentarily removed the bowl and gently wiped her lips with his handkerchief. “You are doing magnificently, my love,” he encouraged, brushing his thumb against her flushed cheek. “Just a small while longer and all will be well,” he promised - somewhat weakly, as though not convinced by his own words.   
  
Caroline shook her head back and forth. “I cannot do this; I cannot do this!” she cried.   
  
“You can,” he told her, squeezing her arm in encouragement; she opened her mouth to protest, but only more pain-induced vomit came, no words.   
  
Caroline’s complexion was red and white and green and grey all at once, and she sobbed in agony as she shakily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Dwight could no longer bear to look at her this way. “Hicks,” he ordered, placing the old maid’s hand underneath the bowl to hold it in place; Dwight felt Caroline weakly clutch the fingers he tried to pull away. “One moment, my darling, one moment; I must fetch something,” he excused, discreetly racing for the door, which he flung open and proceeded to vomit into a nearby vase of violets, unable to contain his terror, concern and heartache.   
  
Crying softly, he sank to his knees and clutched the edge of the small table for support. He had been present at births before - some uneventful and others more intense. But nothing compared to the intensity of watching the person he loved most be tortured with pain. As the hours ticked on, Dwight was aware he would soon begin to watch her slowly slip away from this life, likely bringing their unborn child with her; he was watching it now. He felt bile rise in his throat again.   
  
Through the small gap of the ajar door, a tormented shriek pierced his ears and his being. Caroline needed him. She _needed_ him. He must get up, he must gather himself, he must help her - help them both, even if he did not now know how to, even if he could do almost next to nothing but wait.  
  
Dwight sat slumped on his knees, his loose grip on the table the only thing keeping him upright. Remnants of bitter bile lingered on his tongue, and his heart and mind raced with uncertainty. As he took several breaths in an attempt to pull himself together, Dwight felt a firm tap on his shoulder. He fumbled to his feet and was met by Hicks’ kind yet concerned hazel eyes.   
  
“Dr Enys?” she inquired, quite unsure as to what he was doing in the hallway while his wife was writhing in agony on their bed.   
  
He swallowed a painful lump in his throat. “I-I don’t know if I can save them,” Dr Enys admitted out-loud, tears filling his eyes.   
  
“But you are a miracle worker,” Hicks firmly - dismissively - told him, trying to instil the confidence he needed which he did not often lack.   
  
Dr Enys’ pained blue eyes met the elderly woman’s. “But I am not God,” he said, biting on his quivering bottom lip to imprison a cry. I am not God - I do not get to decide who lives and who does not.  
  
He then felt two hands go about his slumped shoulders and give him a firm shake. He looked at the servant, who eyed him with determination. “You’re as close as it comes for that young lady in there,” she told him; Caroline cried out in agony, and it rippled through Dwight’s being, “She needs you. Now, are you going to let her die?”   
  
_Are you going to let her die?_ Dwight blinked at her question, so simple yet so profound; it hit him like a smack to the face. “No,” Dr Enys softly said. “No,” he said again, more resolutely before entering the room as an idea entered his mind.  
  
“Caroline,” Dwight called with determination as he walked over to the bed; from her constricted features he could tell she was in the middle of a contraction. “I need you to stand.”   
  
“Have you taken leave of your senses?!” Caroline gasped out as soon as she was able to speak again. She could barely lie down, how could he expect her to stand?  
  
Dr Enys almost smiled at the accusation. “A change of position may help to shift the child and quicken the process,” he explained, offering her his hand.   
  
“Well, to what purpose are you still standing there? Help me up!” Caroline impatiently ordered, trying and failing to get up herself, looking very much like a turtle who was stuck on its back.  
  
Placing his arms under her armpits and resting his hands on her back, Dwight had barely counted to two before another contraction rattled Caroline’s body. She clung to his shoulders with such force that it dragged him down until they were almost on top of each other.   
  
“When this is over, you are never touching me again,” Caroline breathlessly warned him.  
  
Dwight guided her to her feet, supporting her and their unborn child with all his strength. If it meant never having to relive a night like tonight, Dwight would accept her terms without reluctance. “As you wish,” he appeased.   
  
“I shall petition to - _ahhh_!” she gripped Dwight’s shoulder tightly to keep her upright through the pain, “to parliament and- have them draft a- bill,” Caroline gasped out.   
  
“I shall co-sign it,” he promised, holding her hand and waist tightly as they meandered around the bedchamber.   
  
Hicks joined the couple and linked arms with Caroline to give the woman young additional support.  
“I think it’s working,” Caroline said cautiously after several minutes went by. She then groaned, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Dwight. Dwight!” She clutched his half-open shirt to get his full attention, as though she had not already had it for hours, “I think- I think it’s time.” Her tone was one of quiet hopefulness and trepidation, but the relief in her voice was evident.   
  
Dwight let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Alright,” he acknowledged, trying to keep his hopefulness at bay until he knew for certain. “Alright. Hicks, let’s get Mrs Enys to the bed, quickly.”   
  
Hicks nodded firmly and clutched her mistress’ arm as she assisted her over to the bed.   
  
The doctor and the lady’s maid fumbled with pillows and blankets and towels; Dwight also barked an order that someone bring them hot water without delay.  
  
Caroline, now somewhat comfortably lying on her back, cried out as the urge became too strong to fight.   
  
Resting by her feet at the bottom of the bed, Dwight held her knee in place. “That’s it, my love,” he encouraged as he noted movement. “Hold that for few more seconds.”   
  
She obeyed and released a heavy breath, panting with exertion. Dwight quickly crawled to her side on the bed and took her face in his hands. She looked at him, and he looked at her and smiled. “I am in awe of your strength,” he told her, a lump in his throat.   
  
Caroline smiled tiredly at him. “To think it will truly soon be over, and we shall have a child,” she whispered dreamily. “I’m afraid you shall be displaced as my greatest love, Dr Enys,” she went on, her voice soft, “Pray try not to be too jealous.” Caroline smoothed her husband’s cheek with her knuckles.   
  
Dwight kissed her lips softly. “I shall do my best,” he murmured, thinking of how his son or daughter would, too, displace Caroline as his own greatest love - but only just. Perhaps it would be an even tie. Suddenly, Caroline tightly clutched his shoulder and brought Dwight back to reality.   
  
Time to get back to the task at hand. “Alright,” the doctor instructed, “alright, Caroline, bear down as hard as you can, and we shall hold that for ten seconds.”   
  
“‘We?!’” she barked before immediately obeying his orders.   
  
Dwight chuckled and squeezed her knee in encouragement. “Good!” he enthused, noting the positive progress. “Good, alright, breathe, my love,” Dwight granted; Caroline gasped and panted, her body spent and weary, “Save your energy until next time. Just a few more and the child will be born.” He failed to disguise the growing excitement in his being.   
  
Caroline smiled briefly before her face contorted in pain and she once again began to push; Hicks clutched her hand in loving support as a friend, mother or aunt would - to Caroline, Hicks was somewhere between all three. As she crushed the bones in the older woman’s hand, Caroline made a note to apologise to her tomorrow.  
  
Suddenly a searing pain swirled in her lower torso and shot up through her body. “Something is wrong,” Caroline claimed, shaking her head incessantly, panic flooding her veins. “Dwight, something is wrong!” she cried, holding her swell.   
  
Dwight, focused on the sight of the child’s head slowly beginning to crown, tried to calm Caroline. She must not distress herself; it could stress the child. “Nothing is wrong, my love,” Dr Enys calmly insisted, giving her knee another reassuring squeeze. “I need you to bear down as soon as you feel the urge again,” he instructed.   
  
She did so almost immediately, and as the outline of child’s head became more clear, Dwight realised to his horror that his wife was correct; the cord seemed to cover the child’s head partially, meaning it could be choking. But he could not yet reach it; its shoulders were not yet exposed enough for Dr Enys to pull the child out. “Caroline,” he said, now trying to remain calm himself, she made a noise in acknowledgement, “I need to you push as hard as you can. Do you understand? As hard and as long as you can.”   
  
“Yes,” she gasped before crying out in pain. She bore down on the pressure with all her might, her face growing red in exertion, every cell in her body now serving only one purpose.   
  
After one more long push, the pressure was gone, and the pain dulled. Caroline allowed relief to momentarily flood her before icy dread filled her veins in the deafening silence. “Why isn’t it crying?” she demanded to know; the worried knot in her stomach so tight it almost made her vomit. “Oh, God, Dwight, why isn’t it crying?” She could not prevent herself from sobbing - though she tried. If the child was dead, she would not recover - she would not want to recover.   
  
Eight seconds.   
  
Dwight did not answer her, his racing mind focused on massaging the baby’s chest and lungs.   
  
Eleven seconds.   
  
The silence was agonisingly unbearable; he could not rebound from the loss of a child again - and, in her weakened state, the loss would kill Caroline, that he knew for certain. And what purpose would his own life have then?  
“Oh, no, oh, God,” Dr Enys whimpered as his efforts seemed fruitless. “Come on, _come on_.”   
  
Fifteen seconds.   
  
Caroline tried and failed to sit up to see what Dwight was doing with such urgency to her right, but her body utterly spent after the last 13 hours of agonising labour. “Dwight?” she asked, her voice breaking.   
  
Seventeen seconds.   
  
He couldn’t lie to her; he couldn’t tell her all was well; it was not. “Oh, please, please, _please_, God, _please_,” the agnostic Dr Enys desperately pleaded in prayer under his breath.   
  
Less than two seconds later, a piercing shriek filled the bedchamber; it was the most welcome sound to grace the house in all the time it had stood erect.   
  
Both Dwight and Caroline let out unfiltered exclamations of relief as the sound rang out in their ears. Hicks collapsed in an armchair in the corner, her relieved cries muffled beneath her handkerchief.   
  
Dwight stood over their breathing - crying! - baby and freely sobbed with relief and joy for a moment as he watched the colour return to the small creature and listened as it loudly demanded its share of attention.   
  
“It seems our daughter has inherited her mother’s strong lungs,” Dr Enys said thickly as he turned towards his wife, the small wailing bundle wrapped in a blanket in his arms. He gently pressed her against his chest, her heartbeat strong and steady, her lungs clear and robust. She was perfect.   
  
“A girl,” Caroline registered dreamily; she could not believe the ordeal was finally over and both she and the child had survived.   
  
Dwight walked over the bed and sat down carefully on its edge, gently rocking the newest addition to the household, whose cries began to dissipate into soft curious babbles. “Do you feel strong enough for an introduction?” he softly asked his wife.   
  
Caroline shifted and pushed herself up against the pillows on the palms of her hands as well as she could; her body reactively winced in pain at the movement, but her mind hardly registered it as she stared at their newborn. “Yes,” she breathed, a tired smile stretching across her face. “Yes, please.”   
  
Kissing the crown of his daughter’s head, Dwight carefully passed her to Caroline and lay her gently on her chest; they looked as though they belonged to each other.   
  
He looked at the spent woman lying next to him, and a surge of unrivalled love and pride swelled within him. The bravery she had shown, the selflessness, the endurance - he was in speechless awe. Though Caroline was perhaps the most enigmatic creature to ever grace God’s green earth, Dwight felt blessed she had ever graced his life, and more so that she had elected to stay. “Never have I felt so scared, so proud, so elated all within an hour,” he murmured, hardly able to believe the ordeal was over, and all had truly come well.  
  
“Nor I,” Caroline admitted, “You had better be worth all this, Miss Enys,” she weakly murmured; swiping a thumb across the baby girl’s back. She already was.   
  
Dwight smiled and watched as his wife’s eyelids began to droop in exhaustion. “You must rest now, my love,” he ordered gently, carefully taking the baby from her chest. “I cannot think of anything more deserved.”   
  
Caroline reached out a heavy arm and tapped Dwight. “Wait. Her name. She needs a name,” she insisted, smiling at the newborn, her tone soft with love and exhaustion.   
  
“I thought we had already agreed,” whispered Dwight, carefully rocking the baby, whose eyelids began to droop like her mama’s.   
  
It then occurred to Caroline that they had, in fact, finally agreed on a name last week after much deliberation. “Oh, yes,” she recalled. She reached out and stroked the baby’s silken cheek. “Hello, Sophie,” Caroline murmured.  
  
“Sophie Charlotte Enys,” Dwight quietly christened, narrowly escaping bursting with the pride of it. Carefully, Dwight rose from the bed, trying not to disturb Caroline or Sophie as he did so. Having succeeded, he ambled across the wooden floor of their bedchamber in search of Sophie’s crib.   
  
“Dwight,” Caroline mumbled, mostly asleep now. “Don’t leave me," she pleaded. "Stay. Both of you...” And then she was softly snoring.   
  
Dwight placed Sophie into her Moses basket and gently rubbed his thumb over her tiny torso. Smiling softly, he turned his attention back to his sleeping wife. “Do not fret, my heart,” he whispered, “We are not going anywhere.” 

* * *

  
Morning streamed through the curtains insistently, and it woke Dwight at its earliest opportunity. He was lying on his back; Caroline curled up against his side, her arm thrown out across his chest; moving without waking her would be a challenge. Gently, he brushed her hair back from her face and watched as her eyelids flitted as she dreamt. Smiling, he kissed her forehead, softly placed her arm down by her side and got out of bed. This accomplished, Dwight went to the window and partially opened the curtains, the pale blue morning light reflecting in his equally pale blue eyes. He placed a hand against the glass and gently pushed the window open, allowing the fresh summer breeze to fill his nostrils.   
  
Turning around, Dwight tiptoed the few short steps to the crib and peered inside. Sophie looked the definition of comfort, her small mouth parted in slumber as she snored, her body cocooned in a blanket, a tiny hand resting against her temple. Dwight looked up and glanced at Caroline, who had not moved a single millimetre from where Dwight had left her on the bed. Logically, Caroline should not waken for hours as Dwight had insisted on giving her a sedative for the pain. He smiled at the sight of her wild curls and her soft snores; she was exhausted and had every right to be. He hoped she would sleep for the day, aside from having to be awoken to feed Sophie, who had been fed not four hours ago and was thus also like to be asleep a while yet.   
  
Despite being the only one in the room even vaguely alert of his surroundings, Dwight brushed a thumb against the lace hem of Sophie’s blanket and grinned as he looked between his girls. “Good morning, my loves,” he whispered into the silent serenity of the bedchamber.   
  


* * *

  
  
The tiny cry roused Caroline from her almost comatose state, although she did not immediately realise what had awoken her. Then her ears pricked at the sound of the soft cry again, and she found herself instinctively alert despite the overwhelming exhaustion that made her bones ache. The baby needed her. However, before Caroline could even attempt to move or get up, she heard another sound – this time a voice - the most familiar voice.  
  
“Hush, little one…,” Dwight cooed in a whisper. It was only then Caroline noticed that he was no longer next to her in bed. With some effort and pain, Caroline slowly turned onto her side, narrowing her still sleep-slitted eyes against the soft glow of the morning light.   
  
The sunshine formed a halo-like glow around his silhouette as Dwight tenderly cradled their baby. If Caroline had had the energy, she would have rolled her eyes at the fact the universe itself seemed to ordain her husband as some kind of holy being. Though, she reflected, he was as like to such a thing as anyone she’d ever know.   
  
Sophie was three days old - or was it four now? - and she looked almost comically small in her father’s arms, a curious, tiny hand sticking out of her blanket. Caroline could see Dwight’s besotted expression as he delicately caught the waving hand, which then proceeded to wrap itself in a fist around his index finger.   
  
“Oh, my darling, how clever you are,” Dwight crooned. He swayed them from side to side, softly murmuring to Sophie as she once again began to whimper and fuss. “Sshh, Mama needs her sleep, and she is quite entitled to it, having worked so very hard to bring you to us.”  
  
A swell of pride filled Caroline’s being, she had indeed worked very hard to bring Sophie into this world, and she had succeeded despite the periodical hopelessness of the situation. It still sent a shiver down her spine to think of how the shadows had passed over her face. The last three days had been a complete blur; Caroline had slept for most of them, only being woken by either Sophie, who demanded sustenance, or by Dwight’s insistence that she eat and drink something. She had only accepted some tea, a small fruit bowl and a hearty bowl of lentil soup for the sake of the worried black smudges beneath his eyes. On reflection, Caroline did feel better today for it, stronger, and she hoped Dwight might even allow her a short walk later.   
  
Sophie seemed quite determined that Caroline should not be allowed more sleep for the time being as she began to wail loudly in starvation.   
  
“Why are you hungry?” Dr Enys demanded to know, his demand undermined by the softness of his voice, “We woke Mama not three hours ago to feed you and now we must wake her again. She shall be most put out and shall no doubt blame I.”   
  
“Of course I blame you, Dr Enys,” Caroline accused from the bed, having managed to prop herself up against the plush arrangement of pillows, “If you had kept your hands among other things to yourself then I would not have to be awoken so impertinently on a beautiful summer’s day, now, would I?” she challenged, teasing colouring her tired tone.  
  
Dwight beamed at the sight of his wife, awake and alert in their bed, it did not seem so long ago that he was unsure if she would stay in this world with him. “You would not,” Dwight conceded with a smile as he approached the bed, softly rocking a fussing Sophie, “but then we would not have young miss Enys here to marvel at.”   
  
“C’est la vie, as they say,” Caroline quipped, holding out her arms, now very eager to see her daughter.   
  
As Dwight carefully set Sophie into Caroline’s open arms, his hand lingered against his wife's as he paused to feel - to appreciate - the warmth of her hand and the pulse of the blood in her veins.   
  
“Hush, Madam Menace, ssshhh,” Caroline soothed the squirming infant as she tugged down on the loose strap of her nightgown to bare her breast. “I am certain that we shall have no trouble getting you fed, we have managed quite well so far, you need only stop fussing and cooperate.”   
  
Caroline soon felt the bed dip and felt Dwight carefully move behind her; shifting slightly, she leant back against him, smiling as he pressed a kiss to her temple. He looked on in awe as his daughter, Sophie, latched onto Caroline’s breast and began to suckle greedily.   
“Well, Dr Enys, she certainly does not have your atrocious appetite. Let us give thanks for that, at least.” Caroline stroked Sophie’s fair head tenderly – the thin wisps of hair would no doubt give way to thick, unruly Penvenen curls.  
  
“She has your nose,” Dwight murmured dreamily, having to fight the desire to stretch out his hand and place a gentle boop on the tip of her little nose.   
  
“Lucky girl,” Caroline commented, a wry smile on her face. “She has your eyes,” she said with a put-on disappointed sigh.   
  
Dwight joined in on her mock sighing. “We can only hope they shall darken over time,” he joked.   
  
“No matter, my nose alone shall compensate for any paternal deficiencies.”   
  
“No doubt,” Dwight accepted. After a further moment of watching his wife nurse their baby, Dr Enys asked: “How are you feeling today, my love?” He tucked a wild curl behind her ear.   
  
“Tired, but much better than yesterday,” answered Caroline, pausing to twist her head and smile reassuringly at her husband; judging from his own pale complexion and tired eyes, he had likely spent the last few nights simply watching the rising and falling of her and Sophie’s chests. Her summation was not wrong.   
  
Turning her attention back to the task at hand, Caroline smiled softly as Sophie continued her feeding without fuss. His wife was staring at their daughter with a look of such pure love it made Dwight’s breath hitch in his throat, and his eyes pricked with tears. He could hardly believe this was his family; fate had dealt him a fair - more than fair - hand.   
  
Sensing her husband’s gaze on her, Caroline blushed slightly at a realisation. “Good Lord, I must look a fright,” she assumed with a chuckle, her voice quiet in her exhaustion. Caroline felt, rather than saw, her hair stick out in all directions, and her nightgown was lightly stained with spots of blood and patches of breastmilk. “Thank Heavens it is only you two who should see me this way.” She smiled softly and smoothed her daughter’s rosy cheek with a bent index finger.   
  
Dwight softly shook his head at her claim and pressed a kiss against her temple. “You are beautiful,” Dwight murmured with such sincerity it made Caroline’s heart skip a beat or two. “I could have Hicks heat a bath for you later?” he offered.   
  
“Oh, that would be marvellous,” Caroline sighed dreamily. “Thank you.” She offered him a smile.   
  
Dwight pressed another kiss to her temple. “Of course,” he dismissed breezily; she had brought their child to him, the least he could do was order a bath for her. He would do more - anything, everything - if she would let him, but he knew she was already growing tired of his hovering, of his fussing. Dwight smiled to himself.   
  
Quite soon, Sophie had decided she was rather full and tired of being fed and so began to fuss. Caroline gently manoeuvred her against her shoulder, shushing her meek cries and tapping her small back with only two fingers. A light chuckle escaped both Dwight and Caroline’s lips when Sophie loudly burped in contentment. Caroline shot Dwight a teasing look that suggested the action was an inherited trait.   
  
Once her discomfort was resolved, Sophie immediately resumed her calm disposition of the last few days since she had arrived on earth and sank comfortably back into her mama’s embrace.   
  
Fidgeting with the hem of soft white blanket that Demelza had made for Sophie’s arrival, Caroline huffed in frustration as she could not get it to sit right. Dwight smoothly intervened and tucked his daughter’s toes into the handmade, linen-and-silk patterned garment and wrapped it tighter around her.   
  
Caroline smiled at the action and thought how lucky she was to be with a man who seemed to know everything. How different both their lives might have been had fate not intervened; what an exceedingly dull and unfulfilling life it would have been for them both. “Well?” Caroline wondered aloud as her fingers traced the outline of her daughter’s face, noting that she had her father’s kind mouth. Caroline hoped it would not be the only inherited paternal trait of her daughter’s. “You are now outnumbered, Dr Enys.” Dwight was more than happy to be so. “Whatever shall you do? I hope you can contain your disappointment at my inability to breed sons,” she teased, knowing how thrilled he was to have a daughter.   
  
Dwight feigned consideration for a moment. “Hmm. Well, firstly, I shall do this,” he carefully leaned forward and placed a feathery tender kiss on Sophie’s head, “and then I shall do this,” he murmured, guiding Caroline’s chin towards him with his finger and placing a less-than-feathery kiss on her lips.  
  
Caroline hummed once the kiss had broke and nuzzled her nose against his. “So, we two ladies shall do, after all?” she asked her husband blithely, indicating to the now dozing bundle in her arms, her tired eyes lighting up as she smiled up at him.   
  
Instinctively, Dwight wrapped his arms around them both, his form shielding his two girls from the glow of the sun, as he would shield them from any harm. Dwight tilted his head against Caroline’s temple and gently began caressing her arm and stroking Sophie’s little cheek. He felt his chest swell with emotion and swallowed the hard lump in his throat. “You are… everything.”


	4. Time For Such A Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Apologies for the delay in updating this fic - I was feeling uninspired. This chapter was originally posted on Tumblr so you may have already read it. If not, it is set about a year after S5 ends and features all of our faves. Enjoy! xo

** June 1803  **

** ******* **

The warm sun rays stretched their long fingers onto the step of the church entrance, where the Enyses attempted to hide from the summer’s day in the shade. 

Dwight anxiously checked his pocket watch and squinted his eyes at the gate and towards the horizon. 

His wife, Caroline, noticed both actions and chuckled quietly beside him. “This is precisely why we told everyone it starts at eleven o’clock, when, in truth, it starts at quarter-past,” she said pointedly, having expected all of her dearest friends to be a little late, as usual. Caroline fixed Sophie’s crisp, white christening gown and held her little form against her chest, swaying them both slightly. 

“We are not late, are we?” A voice asked, fearing impertinence. 

The Enyses stepped out of the shade slightly to be greeted by the sight of Sir George Warleggan and his two children, who came from the right side of the church, presumably having just visited Elizabeth Warleggan’s grave. 

“George,” Caroline greeted politely, somewhat surprised he had come despite having indeed been invited, “welcome. No, you are not late.” 

George nodded politely and faintly smiled at Dwight and Caroline. Valentine smiled brightly at the adults - having become acquainted with them both at Nampara - and Ursula clung to her father’s hand and bobbed a shy curtsy. 

“How are you all?” Dwight asked conversationally, smiling at all three Warleggans. 

George’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “Well, I thank you,” he replied. “And you?” 

Dwight put his arm around his wife and smiled softly at his newborn. “We all are well, thank you.” 

“I wonder, might I have a word with you - in private?” George suddenly asked Dr Enys. 

The doctor nodded and then glanced at his wife, who nodded an assurance that she and Sophie would be fine alone for a few minutes. 

“Valentine, Ursula, why do you not keep Mrs - and Miss - Enys company?” he encouraged, gently pushing them forwards. The children nodded obediently and ambled over to where Caroline stood, where Valentine immediately began to inquire about Caroline’s horses. 

Dwight and George turned the corner of the church; over George’s shoulder Elizabeth Warleggan’s grave stood out due to the colourful selection of flowers that lay by it as well as its natural grandness. “What is it you wished to speak about?” Dr Enys asked. “Are you ill?” His blue eyes and his tone were cautious and - George noted - concerned. 

Sir George paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “No, not ill...,” he said, struggling with articulating the words. “I- I have never thanked you... for your- assistance these past few years,” George stated, uncomfortable with the debt he owed the man in front of him; George loathed to owe anyone anything. 

“It is thanks enough that you are well and your children reap the full benefit of such a thing,” said Dwight, meaning every word. 

“Still,” George said, “I thank you all the same.” 

Dwight nodded politely in acceptance, feeling surprised and quite touched that he had received such a thanks, perhaps George had truly changed after all. “Your other friend shall be here soon,” Dwight quipped. 

A confused frown formed on George’s face. Other? Friend? Other friend? So, Dwight Enys considered him a friend; he wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or to think it an impertinence. For today, at least, he would choose to feel pleased. “Friend?” 

A taunting smile tugged at the corner’s of Dwight’s mouth. “I refer to Ross, naturally.” 

The very idea was dismissed with the wave of a hand. “Friends, allies, we shall never be,” George scoffed. His mouth then twitched slightly. “But one’s day is far less taxing for not constantly plotting the downfall of Ross Poldark.”

Dwight bubbled with laughter. “There are no doubt other forces at work in your place,” the doctor said, slightly sobering at the probable truth of the statement. 

“No doubt it is deserved.” 

Dwight could not really argue to the contrary, even if his deep internal loyalty to Ross nagged him to do so. “At any rate, please try not to kill each other. It would somewhat dampen my daughter’s christening.” 

A snicker exhaled through George’s nose. “I promise to do my best, I cannot speak for Ross though, I suspect he shall consider my presence an affront to his family.” 

“Was that all?” Dr Enys then asked, his tone professional as he ignored the momentary return to old ways. “Shall we rejoin the others?” 

George struggled slightly, finding the matter awkward in more ways than one. “I- hm-,” he began, “it- it appears your wife possesses some knowledge about my past... that could potentially pose some difficulties... were such information to become- public knowledge.” 

Dwight knew exactly to what Sir George referred, Caroline had informed him of the situation a while ago and apologised for its cruel necessity. “I assure you such information will never be public knowledge. It was a precaution, for Caroline, she never intended to ruin you. It matters a great deal to me than you be aware it was not I who shared such information. I was careless in that I had left some correspondence on my desk, but I did not intend for it to be seen by another living soul,” Dr Enys promised. 

George accepted this with still the slightest sliver of unease. Begrudgingly, he politely nodded, settling the matter. “Shall we rejoin the others?” he asked, moving to lead the way once Dwight had nodded in agreement.

“Papa, it’s too hot,” Ursula complained with a pretty pout as soon as her father was close enough to hear. 

“Well, then, let us wait inside,” said George, taking her hand; he bowed his head politely at Dwight and Caroline before he left.

“What was all that about?” Caroline asked her husband, her curious eyes following the Warleggans as they entered the church. 

Dr Enys looked at his wife with a barely contained smirk; bless her, she could hardly bear to not know everything about everybody. It was a relief that she had remained, in some ways, so unchanged from the woman he first fell in love with all those years ago. “My love, you know I cannot discuss my patients.” 

With an bored eyeroll, Caroline turned her attention to her infant, whom she loved very much, which she did a very poor job of disguising, though she did try valiantly when in company. 

Dwight smiled softly at them both. Sophie was but a week old, and already he noticed how much more open Caroline was in her affections, as if she thought her jests last time had been what had went against them, had went against Sarah. Their eldest daughter, who died almost 4 years ago now, slept in eternal peace just out of their line of sight from where they stood now; but they had already visited her and informed her of today’s events, and laid some carefully selected flowers. Dwight and Caroline were both secretly proud of one another for not crying, and instead focusing on the positives that today would bring - for today was not a day to be sad. 

As Dwight now watched his wife gently hum a traditional Cornish lullaby to Sophie - who began to coo as sleep beckoned her - he wondered how it was possible to be so in love with two different people. Just then, he heard some children arguing in the distance and glanced straight forward to see a bickering Jeremy and Clowance Poldark. 

“Good morning, you two,” Dwight greeted as his chosen niece and nephew approached him, his expression highly amused. 

The greeting silenced both Poldark children and their quarrel. “Morning, Uncle Dwight,” Jeremy mumbled, his voice beginning to crack and deepen with age. “Hello, Aunt Caroline. Hi, Sophie.” And with that, Jeremy brushed by them and entered the church. Clowance crossed her arms across her chest and said absolutely nothing, her face decidedly stormy; she was most definitely her father’s daughter.

“We did not even have time to warn him Sir George is inside; I’ve never seen Jeremy eager to enter a church before,” Caroline commented to her husband, mirthfulness in her eyes. 

“Ugh, nor I!” Demelza moaned as she approached her best friends, baby Bella sat comfortably on her hip. “These two,” she continued, pointing between Clowance and the church which now sheltered Jeremy, “have been at it all morning! And Bella has been up all through the night screamin’ bloody murder about somethin’ that ails her and I cannot rightly think what it is, I wish she could talk already so she could tell me. Oh, Caroline, Dwight, I’m that weary,” she despaired, on the verge of tears, her ginger brows creased about her shining blue eyes. 

A quick glance passed between Dwight and Caroline, and Dwight immediately took Bella from Demelza so that Caroline could console their stressed friend. 

“Hello, Ella,” Dwight murmured, taking the infant’s hand and waving it gently. Everyone doted on Isabella-Rose Poldark, who had a varied range of nicknames, which only served to demonstrate how loved she was and how welcome her presence into the Poldark family had been after years of turmoil and uncertainty; it somehow had marked a new beginning for them all. 

Demelza cried softly against Caroline’s free shoulder, the other one of which was occupied by a sleeping Sophie. Caroline awkwardly tapped Demelza’s back and lamented that did not have enough hands to sufficiently deal with this situation. 

“It’s only teething, dearest Demelza,” Dwight informed his friend after noticing Bella’s tender gums, hoping this information would be of some comfort to her.

“Oh, thank God,” she whimpered, images of Julia’s last night with her had been playing in loop in her mind for the last fourteen hours; Demelza’s face remained pressed against Caroline’s shoulder, which was now growing damp. 

Frowning in displeasure at Demelza’s distress, Dwight let out a sigh. “Clowance, my love,” he beckoned. The nine-year-old turned to look at her unofficial uncle. “Take your sister,” he ordered, placing Bella into her arms, his tone serious and authoritative, “and go make peace with your brother this instant. Look at what you two have done to your poor Mama.” He motioned to the sniffling grown woman who rested against his wife’s shoulder, almost too exhausted to stand independently.

Clowance nodded miserably and trudged into the church. “Sorry Mama,” she mumbled on her way inside. Clowance did not like making her mama or uncle Dwight upset as they so rarely got upset with anyone. She hoped Jeremy would accept her apology so Mama would smile again. 

Caroline eyed her husband out of the corner of her eye and wet her lips; she loved it when he was authoritative. Just as she was about to make an inappropriate comment, Ross Poldark came jogging through the church gates, holding up a hand in apology. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m late,” he apologised breathlessly as he caught up with them. “My meeting with Pascoe ran over.” He then noticed his wife pressed against one of his best friend’s shoulder. He frowned in concern and pointed at her. “What’s this?” He placed his hand gently on his wife’s shoulder. 

“I’m fine, Ross. I’m just a thought overtired, that’s all,” Demelza sniffed, enjoying her short respite against Caroline’s shoulder from the chaos of her three, displeased children. 

With a slight frown, Ross placed a kiss in her fiery hair and soothingly rubbed her back before turning his attention to his dearest friend. “Dwight Enys,” Ross chirped, extending his hand. “It’s a proud day.” 

Dwight took Ross’s hand. “That it is, my friend,” he said, beaming at his dark-haired friend and quickly stealing a glance at his sleeping daughter. 

Nobody knew why Ross and Dwight bothered to shake hands - their hands always ended up crushed between their chests as they pulled each other into a tight, friendly hug. Today was no exception. 

“Ross,” Caroline said, her tone teasing and yet serious, “stop flirting with my husband and look after your wife.” 

The corners of Ross’s mouth twitched and he approached Demelza, pulling her into an embrace. “Yes, Mrs Enys,” he said, saluting her as though she were a corporal. 

Caroline swatted him with her free hand for his sarcasm; Ross caught her hand and kissed it fondly. 

“Whoa, whoa, what be happen’ here, eh?” Drake called as he, Morwenna and their daughter Loveday walked up the stone path. Everyone crooned as Loveday independently strutted down the path on her chubby legs all. 

Ross laughed at how dramatic the whole situation must look to onlookers. “Do not trouble yourself, Drake. Your sister is just tired, and Mrs Enys is irritable.” This earned him another smack from Caroline. Everyone laughed. 

“Morwenna,” Dwight greeted her, placing a tender, friendly kiss on her hand, she smiled brightly at her oldest ally. “And hello, Loveday, look at you!” he chirped as he lifted Loveday from the ground and blowing a raspberry against her cheek. She squealed and grabbed a handful of Dwight’s lip in thanks, she loved Dr Enys, as did all babies. 

“Hello, Caroline, ee be lookin’ well,” Drake complimented his friend as she stood, tall and radiant in her lavender gown, her newborn asleep peacefully against her chest. 

Caroline leaned forward and placed a fond kiss on Drake’s cheek. If she would have thought fifteen years ago that one of her closest friends would ever be a blacksmith, she’d have laughed herself half to death; but she and Drake had a special rapport between them, which had surprised everyone, themselves included. “Dear Drake,” Caroline murmured in thanks. “Have you had a chance to make that fire guard I ordered?” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he joked with a head bow; Caroline giggled. “It be ready and waitin’ for ye in the shop.” 

“And you and Morwenna received the thirty pounds I sent you, yes?” 

Drake blushed and ducked his head. “Yes, but ‘twas not necessary, truly I’d have-”

“I know you would have made it for nothing,” Caroline said with a laugh. “That’s precisely why I paid you in advance! Morwenna, please tell your husband that Dwight and I are certainly not among his charity cases, and ensure he accepts enough money to feed you all!” 

Morwenna bubbled with laughter, the musical sound filling the air. “Why must our husband’s be so stubborn about money?” Morwenna wondered, glancing at Dr Enys, who still more often than not refused to accept money from the poor. 

“My dear, they are stubborn about everything,” Caroline replied seriously, side-eyeing Dwight, who grinned unapologetically at his wife. “Now that we’re all here,” Caroline announced. “Shall we begin the service?” 

“But Sam and Rosina’s be not here yet,” Drake pointed out, narrowing his gaze at the gate as though it would cause his brother to appear out of thin air. 

“And where is reverend Odgers?” Demelza wondered, her head resting against Ross’ shoulder. 

Dwight and Caroline exchanged a sly glance. “Sam is already inside,” Dwight announced. “We asked him to perform the christening.” 

Everyone smiled widely at the news and made their way inside to celebrate their universal happiness that the birth of Sophie Enys had brought; she could never know how loved she was by them all. 

One day, she (along with all of the children) would recognise what a blessing it was to be born into such a large, loving family - made only more loving by the fact that they had all actively decided to be one. But for now, Sophie Enys’ thoughts focused solely on her godmother’s pretty red hair, the nice lullabies her Mama sang to her and her father’s pair of blue eyes that looked upon her as though she had hung the stars in the sky. 


	5. Most Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter was originally posted on Tumblr, so apologies if you've already read this one. I hope you enjoy it all the same.

** November 1803 **

** ****** **

Dr Dwight Enys crept into his bedchamber after breakfast in search of his beloved pocket-watch he’d forgotten on the bedside table. 

“Ah, Caroline,” he greeted with a wide smile, somewhat surprised to see her awake and dressed so early. “How are you this morning, my love?” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek as he passed her. 

“How am I?” Caroline asked him, crossing her arms across her chest, as though the question was the most impertinent one in the world. “How am I? I’ll tell you how I am, Dr Enys: I am with child.” She had been feeling off for several days now, and when her courses had not come again yesterday, Caroline knew there was only one explanation. 

Dwight picked up the silver pocket-watch from the bedside table and swiftly dropped it to the floor in shock once his brain had taken in what Caroline had just said. His head whipped around to look at his wife. “I’m sorry?” Had he heard her correctly? “You- you’re with-?” 

“Child?” she finished for him. “Yes.” Her arms were still crossed. 

The doctor’s gaze went from his wife to their still dozing five month-old and back again. “But I- I don’t understand,” he stuttered. “How could such a thing...” Dwight trailed off, his stunned mind at present unable to form coherent words and sentences. 

“I should think you of all people should be quite able to explain the concept, Dr Enys,” Caroline scathed before sitting down heavily on the bed. It was all so soon. And she was so tired, they both were; and now there would be no time for resting. “Christ above...” Caroline muttered quietly as she wiped her hand across her face. 

“It was not His doing,” Dwight commented, a smile clear in his voice. 

Caroline picked up a plush pillow and threw it at him, which he dodged expertly. Now was not the time for jests. “No, it was yours,” she accused in a grumble. 

An wide, unapologetic grin stretched across Dwight’s face now that he had gotten over the shock of his wife’s announcement; though she had clearly not recovered as seamlessly as he had. 

Tentatively, Dwight took a seat next to Caroline on the bed and took her hand in his, his features soft and patient. “I grant you it is... most unexpected,” he began, looking at her; she still stared straight ahead. “But is it so bad?” Dwight wondered gently. 

It was then Caroline looked at him. “Bad?” she repeated. “No, no, of course not...” she insisted quietly; she then exhaled shakily. “It’s just...” 

“What?” Dwight probed, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand. 

“I was not prepared for it to be so soon.” The thought of giving birth again so soon after last time filled her with icy dread. What if they would not all be so lucky this time?

A small chuckle escaped Dwight’s lips. “Nor I,” he admitted. When Caroline did not share or acknowledge either his chuckle or his comment, Dwight put an arm around her. “Tell me, what is it that troubles you?” 

Caroline paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well,” she began, “the birthing itself is daunting to say the least. You of all people know how precarious childbirth can be.” Dr Enys nodded in understanding. “It is long, arduous and unrelenting, and one worries if one’s strength is... strong enough. Then there’s the pain that follows the birthing, the exhaustion, the risk of the fever and worse...” Caroline inhaled and exhaled. “And the prospect of you not being there...”

“Why would I not be there?” Dwight wondered. 

“You were quite late last time,” Caroline reminded him.

With a twinge of guilt, Dwight nodded in receipt of her worries; he wished to soothe them but did not want to sound dismissive of her very valid fears, so he said only: “I promise I shall take only house-calls once your confinement begins, would that please you?” Caroline nodded her approval. Somewhat jokingly, Dr Enys then teased, “I promise to be the noble country squire of your dreams.” 

Caroline shoved him gently for his jest, though a smile was now tugging the corner of her lips; she put her hand on his chest. “You promise?” Caroline asked, her eyes searching his. Dwight’s word was the very foundation on which he built his life. 

He met her eyes and smiled softly. “I do. I promise.” 

Caroline’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit at that. “Alright,” she said before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I just bought two new gowns,” Caroline whined suddenly, “I shan’t get much wear out of them now. And they shall be out of fashion in six or seven months time!” She pointed her finger at Dwight. “Dr Enys, you have much to answer for.”

Dr Enys grinned widely at the accusation. “It would seem I do,” he accepted, before pausing in thought. “Why do we not go to London within the month? Then we may be invited to balls and dinners and you may get to parade your new gowns for all of society to see,” he offered, inwardly already dreading the soirées. But wherever Caroline went, he would always follow, that was just how it was. He wouldn’t change it for the world.

Caroline’s entire face lit up. “Oh, Dwight, do you really mean it? May we truly go? Next week, perhaps?” 

He kissed her hand. “If you wish it.” 

“I wish it!” she enthused. Oh, to be amongst people again! To be further than Killewarren, Nampara or Sawle village! To have a dull, meaningless conversation with a stranger and not somebody who knows and owns her heart! To be free of the obligations of motherhood for a few blissful hours every few evenings! Oh, but wait... “May Sophie come with us?” Caroline asked her husband. 

Dwight hesitated for a moment: the sight and smell of London came immediately to his mind, the loud hum of the city, the disease, the overindulgence, the general uncleanliness. The answer must surely be no. But then Caroline’s sad face came into his mind, as did the thought of missing some important milestone in Sophie’s development, and the thought of leaving her behind in Cornwall for a month... even in the care of Nanny or Ross and Demelza... Eventually, and not without hesitation, Dwight said: “yes.” 

Caroline grew even more excited at the prospect of her trip to London so Dwight quickly threw in some conditions. “But we must be more cautious in our journey, stopping three or four or perhaps even five times a day. It may take an extra day or two to reach London, but so be it.” Caroline nodded. “And we shall not be dining out  every night.” A less enthusiastic but a perceptible nod came from the direction of his wife. “Naturally, if any guest shows even the slightest sign of any illness - common or exotic in nature - we must leave at once.” Again, Caroline nodded, though more firmly this time. “Lastly, we must find some time to take Sophie to Hyde Park, she would like the ducks and the horses very much,” he concluded, his tone a little softer now. 

Sensing her ears burning at the repeated use of her name, Sophie greeted the new day with some nonsensical babbles to gain her parents’ attention. 

Dwight moved off the bed and approached the crib. “Good morning!” he chirped, peering at a now alert Sophie, who stretched and waved her arms in need of some loving attention. Dwight lifted her out of the crib with ease and rocked her gently. “Today is a very special day, my little love,” he told Sophie. 

“And why is that, Dr Enys?” asked Caroline, controlling a smile as she knew his answer. 

“Because,” Dr Enys began, his tone sing-song, “somebody will be a big sister soon. Think of that, Sophie!” He tickled her stomach and she gurgled happily, stretching her little arms to grab a handful of his lip. 

“I think she is pleased,” Caroline commented. “Though she appears far more interested in shutting you up, my love. Perhaps she may be of use to me, after all.”

“Yes, Madam Mischief appears to be quite boisterous today,” Dwight acknowledged, his sentence muffled by Sophie’s firm grip on his bottom lip, her other chubby hand squeezing his nose. “Ah, ah,” Dwight tutted gently, removing her hands from the act of rearranging his facial features, “in this house, we keep our hands to ourselves,” he warned without heat. 

Caroline cackled from the bed, her laughter nearly splitting her sides. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh, the irony of  you making such a claim!” Dwight shot her a look, which was met by a wicked smile.

Sophie, completely unaware as to what was going on besides the fact she was awake and with her two favourite people, sought to gain her father’s full attention again and gripped a small handful of his lightly greying hair. 

“Someone is quite put out that not all the attention is on her,” Caroline commented, amused as she watched Dwight wince as he tried to pry Sophie’s hand from his head without removing half of his hair. 

“A face she must learn to get used to. I wonder who taught her such behaviour in the first instance!” 

“Hmm,” was all Caroline said. 

Sophie began to fuss slightly in Dwight’s arms but fussed more at the prospect of being put back into her crib; Dwight sighed and wiped his face. 

Caroline stood up and approached them, pausing to wave Sophie’s hand. She still seemed slightly displeased. “Why do you not sing to her?” Caroline suggested, looking at Dwight. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You truly believe that will work?” Sophie began to whimper, a storm of wails very much threatening the horizon. 

Caroline shrugged and made a face at her daughter. “She seems to enjoy it usually.” 

Dr Enys bounced Sophie up and down in an attempt to soothe her. “And you - do you enjoy it?” he teased his wife, though his eyes were soft.

Caroline ignored the soft allure of his blue eyes. “I enjoy teasing you about it.”

“You enjoying teasing me about everything.” 

“Is that a complaint, I hear, Dr Enys?” 

Dwight schooled a smile. “No, no complaints, my love,” he insisted, continuing to bounce Sophie, who was beginning to become more relaxed. 

“I have a complaint,” Caroline announced without any trace of irony, “my husband promised my daughter and I a song and has failed to deliver on his word.” 

Dwight gently rolled his eyes at his wife before taking a breath and softly singing:

“ _ My sweetheart, come along, don't you hear the fond song, _

_ The sweet notes of the nightingale flow? _

_ Don't you hear the fond tale of the sweet nightingale _

_ As she sings in the valley below _ .”

Sophie shrieked in delight at the sound of the nice song her father sang to her before putting her arms around his neck as far as they would go. She then gently rested her cheek against his, offering her mama a gummy - almost teasing - smile. 

“A more blatant preference I’ve yet to see,” said Caroline, attempting to sound offended, which was undermined by the softness of her eyes as she looked at them. 

Dwight laughed and squished their cheeks together, father and daughter both smiling. Dwight then continued humming and began to dance with his daughter. “Then it is fortunate another child is on the way, perhaps it may prefer you and we shall be even once again,” he teased, knowing Sophie’s allegiances changed within the hour depending on what mood she was in. 

Smoothing her skirts, Caroline took a seat on the bed once again. “Yes,” she murmured, a small smile on her face as she rested her hand on her still flat abdomen. “Perhaps it may be for the best, after all.” After a further few moments of studying her husband interacting with their daughter, Caroline stood up, wondering as she came to stand next to them: “Do you not have patients to see?”

“Why?” Dr Enys asked, a smirk dancing on his lips; he kissed the crown of Sophie’s head, which was beginning to grow more pronounced blonde ringlets. “Are you kicking me out?”

Caroline delicately lifted her foot and tapped his shin with it. “Yes.” 

“Indefinitely?” He handed their daughter to his wife. 

“Indefinitely. You must take all your ghastly potions and tonics with you and never return.” 

A sigh escaped Dwight’s lips. “Will you at least grant me a goodbye kiss from my two most beloved women?” 

Caroline schooled a smile. “Why? Are they here?” She kissed him softly and Dwight bent his head and gladly accepted Sophie’s pro-offered sloppy kiss. 

Dr Enys picked up his medical bag and sighed heavily. He nostalgically ran his hand over the curves of the bed frame, the plushness of the chaise-lounge, the crystal door handle. He turned it and opened the oak door. 

“What time shall you be home for supper?” 

“Around six, my love,” Dr Enys answered, offering her and his child a soft smile before stepping into the corridor. 

“You has best not go back on your word!” Caroline called after him, envisioning the fish pie they would eat together later, “or you shall no doubt have the Lord’s wrath to contend with for the breaking of one of his Rules.” 

“Commandments,” Dwight corrected his wife, who was, by her own definition, a perfect heathen. The doctor’s head appeared from around the doorframe. “It may please you to know that the prospect of the Lord’s wrath is not nearly as unpleasant as the prospect of your wrath, Caroline.”

Caroline arched an eyebrow and smirked at her husband. “So I should hope.” 

With a quick, mischievous grin, Dr Enys disappeared down the corridor to begin his rounds. 


	6. Catching You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a fully new chapter! I hope I'm not too rusty after a long break from Carolight fanfic. Please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy friends! xo

** December 1804 **

** ******* **

Meliora’s cries of abandon flooded down the corridor and into the main bedchamber, the door of which had been left ajar in anticipation of the event. 

Beings stirred in half-sleep underneath the lush silk linen which covered the large, comfortable bed. 

“Psssst,” Caroline Enys’s voice hissed into the darkness, “Dr Enys, your daughter requires your attention.” 

“ My daughter? I believe the act of creating a child requires the participation of two people. At any rate, we both know it is you she wants,” the doctor mumbled against his pillow, still mostly asleep. 

The bed shifted under the weight of Caroline petulantly bouncing onto her other side, and Dwight felt her shift her pillow - he wagered it was to cover her ears from Meliora’s indignant wailing. “She does not want me, as I am, she wants my bosoms and she cannot have them,” Caroline said simply, ignoring the dampness that was beginning to form at the chest of her nightgown as her baby’s cries continued. 

“Caroline, please...” the doctor pleaded in his exhaustion, having worked himself near into the ground over the past month dealing with a powerful bout of scarlet fever in the county. 

With an exasperated huff, Caroline threw the bedding back and emerged into the early winter chill of the ancient house. She yanked her silk dressing gown closed and quickly padded out of the room and down the hallway. 

As Dwight lay in a purgatory state of consciousness, he could hear, for all his wife’s objections, Caroline’s gentle and loving voice assuring the small wailing girl that everything would be quite alright. 

Satisfied that the matter was at hand, Dwight allowed himself to stretch his sleepy muscles under the warm linen, settling in to a comfortable position to fall asleep once more. That was until... 

“Dwight! DWIGHT! Come here!” 

There was a note of panicked desperation in his wife’s tone which turned his blood into a December stream. He was out of bed, bare feet wincing against the ice-cold wooden floors of the corridor, before he was even sensible of his own actions. 

The door to the nursery swung open with the urgent nudge of Dwight’s elbow to reveal Caroline standing in the dim candlelight with a still wailing Meliora in her arms. 

Caroline wet her lips, as if to ensure the dry words would be able to leave her mouth, and announced: “She has a fever.” 

A moment of tense silence passed between them as they stared at each other, sharing the same thought and past pain. 

Dr Enys held out his arms. “May I see her?” he asked with all the professionalism he could muster. 

Gently and without words, Caroline handed the baby to Dwight, pausing to run a soothing hand through Meliora’s short fawn-coloured wisps of hair. 

“I- I shall see if Sophie has been disturbed,” Caroline whispered distractedly, brushing by her husband and youngest child as she crossed the large room, hoping she would not twist her ankle on one of Sophie’s wooden blocks which peppered the floor. 

Sophie Enys was found in deep slumber, deaf to her little sister’s cries of discomfort and oblivious to her parent’s worry. 

Caroline leaned over and smoothed Sophie’s now shoulder-length blonde curls; smiling softly at her ability to sleep through all of life’s trials and triumphs. She rather envied her daughter at this present moment. 

Caroline straightened her spine and reluctantly began to cross the room, icy nerves swirling in her stomach as to her youngest daughter’s diagnosis. 

“It is only teething, my love,” Dr Enys informed Caroline as he sensed her presence just behind him. 

Caroline pulled anxiously on her fingers, her brows knitted in worry above her blue eyes. “Are you sure?” She had to know for certain that it was not scarlet fever, she could not go through another ordeal as the last time - and certainly not without forewarning. 

Dwight nodded firmly. “Yes,” he said, “I have rubbed some clove powder on the inflamed areas.” He walked closer to the candelabra on the mantelpiece. “Do you see the redness?” he asked Caroline, gently prying Meliora’s mouth open to reveal her scarlet gums and the smallest hint of a white tooth. 

Caroline peered into her daughter’s mouth and felt relief flood her body. “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “I see it now.” She then sat down heavily on the rocking chair next to Meliora’s crib and closed her eyes. “Thank God.” 

Dwight squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “She is already in better spirits,” he pointed out as Meliora curiously yet tiredly clutched a button on his nightshirt. He carefully set his daughter into his wife’s arms so that she could be fed and thus furthered placated. 

Watching in quiet admiration at the sight before him, Dwight then shifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes towards the back of the room. “Is Sophie...?” 

“Still asleep,” Caroline confirmed, “and quite unbothered by anything other than her own comfort.” 

“So, nothing out of odds there then.” 

Caroline laughed at this. “She sleeps like my uncle Ray used to,” she remembered fondly and informed Dwight, “she does not hear a thing once her eyes are closed and would not stir were the entire world around her loud and aflame around her.” 

Ambling over to the small bed to place a belated goodnight kiss onto her forehead, Dwight chuckled and teased: “Is that why our elopement might have succeeded were it not for my lateness? Because your uncle slept as though comatosed?” 

Caroline had not thought about their failed elopement for a number of years and shuddered at the thought. “Good Lord to think we would now live in Bath,” she grimaced as though the very notion left a bad taste in her mouth. “And to think Uncle Ray might have died angry and alone; and to think we might not know Ross and Demelza as we now do!” It was all quite unimaginable now, though she spent the years between their reconciliation - including Dwight’s internment in France - thinking of nothing else.

Dwight, too, paused in thought at what their life might have looked like had their brazen attempt to elope all those years ago been a success. “Can you forgive my tardiness at last?” he wondered, tenderly kissing her hand as he came to stand beside her. 

Caroline’s mouth twisted ironically, and when it looked like she was disinclined to forgive her husband of almost ten years, she sobered at her surroundings and simply conceded: “Well, it seems life has a way of sorting itself out, does it not?” She inclined her head to Meliora, who now appeared to be full. 

“It seems it does,” he happily agreed. 

Caroline offered her husband their tired and well-fed offspring, whom he accepted gladly. 

Dwight exhaled with an air of fondness as he placed a sleepy Meliora back into her cot, tucking the knitted blanket tightly around her. “We’ll wait a moment until she is asleep.” 

A soft sound of agreement came from the chair which continued to rock back and forth gently in the dim light. Dwight grinned at the sight of Caroline beginning to fall asleep there, as though she herself were a small infant in need of comforting before she allowed herself to sleep. 

Peering over the wooden structure which contained their daughter, Dwight - with a soft sigh of contentment - quietly announced: “Meliora is asleep. Shall we return to bed?” 

Caroline yawned widely, the gentle rocking of the chair encouraging her own eyes to close. “Carry me?” she pleaded sweetly, fanning her long eyelashes in her husband’s direction with all the alertness she could summon from within herself. 

Dwight, in his own state of exhaustion, displayed a look of clear reluctance, wondering if his tired limbs would be up to the task. 

Noting his hesitancy, Caroline then teased with a wry twist of her mouth: “What’s the matter? Do your legs ache horribly from running away from all the pretty young maidens and fishwives?” Caroline held out her hands for Dwight to assist her out of the wooden chair. 

Dr Enys tried and failed to mull his smirk, and a pink blush lightly coloured his cheeks as he thought of the female attention he often received from his patients: it was still a complete anomaly to him. “Exactly so. My knees are terribly strained,” Dwight taunted in return as he pulled his wife to her feet. 

With a haughty toss of her head and small, banter-appreciating smirk, Caroline gently draped her arms around her husband’s neck - signalling that she evidently couldn’t care less if Dwight’s knees were indeed worn out. “But I’m the only one who has caught you,” she gloated, her perfect nose raised in victory. 

“But you’re the only one who has caught me,” he echoed, their eyes locking in the moonlight, before Dwight bent down to hoist Caroline into his arms, grunting softly with the weight of her. “Well,” he then casually added in afterthought, causing Caroline’s blood to cool for moment, “aside from Sophie and Meliora, naturally.” 

With a purse of her lips, Caroline conceded: “I suppose I can share you with the brats. Would that not be the motherly thing to do?” She smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck, noting the attractive peppering of silver hairs. 

A light chuckle rumbled in Dwight’s chest as he ambled towards the nursery door, but he refrained from comment. “Could you really not have managed the thirty steps between here and our bed?” Dr Enys wondered as they exited the room, his arms already beginning to grow tired. 

“No,” Caroline insisted with a smile, swinging her dangling legs for good measure. “I pushed your children out of my body, Dr Enys,” she then reminded him. 

“Yes, six- and eighteen-months ago!” 

Caroline swallowed a laugh. “Are you suggesting there be a statue of limitations on such a thing? I should think it warrants a lifetime of carrying.” 

“This will not be a habit,” Dwight informed her with a chuckle, though he inwardly conceded her point. 

Caroline wagered she could sweet-talk her way into making it so. “As you say, Dr Enys,” was all she said aloud. 

As they crossed the threshold of their bedchamber, Dwight was hit by a wave of nostalgia that made him chuckle. When Caroline looked at him quizzically, he asked: “Do you remember the first time I carried you through this door?” 

“Of course,” Caroline answered with a suggestive smile, before adding: “You were still keen to woo me. I rather miss those days.” 

Dwight rolled his eyes at her jest. “Did I not buy you a new necklace just the other day?” he asked rhetorically. “And do I not bring you back sweet treats - despite my professional opinion?” 

“I suppose,” Caroline conceded as Dwight released her next to the bed so that she may discard her Negligé and hang it over her vanity seat. 

With his mouth pulled to one side in a teasing grin, Dwight wondered: “And what do you do to woo me?” 

“And here I thought I wooed you on an almost nightly basis,” Caroline inferred with a suggestively raised eyebrow as they both climbed back into bed. 

Dwight barked a laugh, and leaned over to peck her lips. He looked at her with adoring eyes. “I pray we never grow tired of each other. I cannot imagine my life without you - without this understanding we have.” 

Caroline was left somewhat dumbstruck by this random proclamation and so her wit was not as sharp as she might have liked. “Nor I,” she murmured, cupping his face. Then she smiled. “It is hard to grow tired of one’s husband when he spends all his time avoiding your home.” 

Dr Enys rolled his eyes and Caroline laughed. “Well, I am here now,” he softly pointed out, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Why do we not sleep now... and in the morning you can woo me in your usual way?” His blue eyes darkened as he met her gaze.

In reply, Caroline ran her leg along her husband’s and grinned in anticipation. 

“Your feet are always cold,” Dwight accused as a shiver ran through his body at the feel of Caroline foot against his calf. 

“I can take my feet, and myself, into the Pink Room indefinitely if it bothers you so much,” Caroline warned without heat, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she felt Dwight pull her ever closer to him.

“Your cold feet can stay where they are,” he murmured, “as can you.” 

Caroline pushed a stray tuft of hair out of Dwight’s blue eyes; she must remember to ask Demelza to trim his hair next time they visit Nampara. “Indefinitely?” she wondered, her fingers lightly grazing his scalp. 

“Indefinitely,” Dwight replied, sealing his promise with a tender kiss. Caroline snuggled closer to him and Dwight tilted his temple against her head; they sighed in comfortable contentment and allowed sleep to claim them. 


	7. Horsing Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely plotless fluff, featuring a significant time jump from the previous chapters, which I may fill in one day. Hope you enjoy xo

** August 1807 **

*******  


“Girls,” reproached Caroline with a sigh as she walked into the room having followed the shrieks down the hallway. “Will you get off your papa? You mustn’t break him - he is quite indispensable hereabouts!” 

Her question - order - fell on deaf ears as the Enys girls, 4-year-old Sophie and 3-year-old Meliora, continued to squeal joyfully, which was accompanied by their father’s laugh as he padded around the room on all fours, the girls straddling his back. 

That damned man, thought Caroline, does every bidding of those two young ladies - and in their short time on earth thus far they had mastered him as well as a violinist masters his instrument of choice. “In all our years of marriage, Dr Enys, never have I seen you so undignified,” Caroline announced, smothering a smile as she shook her head and took a seat in one of the tea-room armchairs. 

Dr Enys ignored his wife’s criticism and continued to click his tongue, imitating the sound of horses’ hooves, as he circled the open space between the unlit fireplace and the chaise-lounge next to Caroline. 

“Papa, what does ‘un-dig-nified’ mean?” Sophie asked, clutching the collar of the jacket he still wore, having only returned from his rounds ten minutes ago, whereupon he had immediately went in search of his beloved wife and daughters. 

Dwight failed to smother a teasing smile. “It means ‘fun’, my darling,” he answered, chuckling as Caroline shot him an eye roll and a mock disapproving glance. 

Caroline observed their fun for a few minutes while pretending to read her book; she had to admit, their delight was becoming quite infectious. The uneasy sensation of feeling left out began to creep up on her, and she set her book aside. “Is there room for one more, Dr Enys?” Caroline asked, half-jesting. 

Sophie and Meliora Enys did not register the jest and were immediately excited at the prospect of their mama playing the game. “Yes, Mama!” Meliora enthused, scooting closer to her sister to make room for her mother on their father’s back. 

Dwight looked immediately worried; he knew his 43-year-old back could likely not take the strain of all three of their weights but he could not bear to disappoint his children. They would frown and whimper and maybe even cry and it saddened him to even think of it. No, his back would simply have to collapse. 

Eyeing him carefully, Caroline understood her husband’s thoughts and agreed with them. “My loves,” Caroline began gently, “we three shall surely break your father. Especially I!” she said with a musical laugh. Looking at her children’s crumpling faces, she quickly added, “but perhaps I can still play, if your papa agrees?” Caroline directed a dazzling smile at her husband, which - as ever - he found irresistible. “And you girls can be some other animals in the... farm," she improvised, motioning to the tastefully-decorated tea-room and praying that her children's imaginations had been influenced by that of the Poldarks', "you can be anything you like!” 

Sophie climbed off her father and contemplated her mother’s offer. Sometimes, it rather frightened Dwight how alike she and Caroline looked, particularly when either of them laughed or grew annoyed or were deep in thought. “May I be a goat?” Sophie wondered, holding her index fingers to her hair to make some horns. “Uncle Ross and Aunt Demelza have nice goats.” 

“An excellent choice, my love,” Dwight warmly enthused. “We can visit Uncle Ross and Aunt Demelza’s goats tomorrow, if you wish.” Sophie nodded enthusiastically. Dwight twisted his neck to look at his youngest daughter. “Lora, what shall you be?” 

Meliora only offered a loud, piercing _QUACK_ as her answer as she clambered down off her father, evidently disregarding his need for a well-functioning shoulder as the weight of her body nearly pulled it from its socket.

“A duck it is, then,” Caroline confirmed, fingering her ear and trying to revive her eardrum. As the children began to enthusiastically quack, bah and make general squeaking noises, Caroline took it as her cue to mount her steed. 

“Oh good God,” Dwight groaned at the change of weight on his back; Caroline scoffed in offence. “Oh good God, you are so light and beautiful, my love,” he amended with strained effort, laughing at himself all the while.

Caroline, too, laughed at his recovery. “I should think so.” A moment of silence passed as they watched their children play nicely in front of them, both of whom seemed to enjoy being members of another species. “Well?” Caroline wondered, a clear smile in her voice. She gently kicked Dwight’s leg with her heel. “Giddy up.” 

With an amused smile and a fond roll of his eyes, the doctor took a few sluggish paces forward on his hands and knees, much to the delight of the Enys girls, who loved when both their parents joined in on their games. “I’m never playing this again,” Dwight announced in a whisper to his wife, his back already aching. 

Caroline chuckled at his optimism. “I fear you have spoiled things for yourself, my love. The children clearly love it. That’s what you get for indulging their every whim,” she pointedly taunted. 

Dwight stopped and twisted to the side, gently knocking Caroline off his back; she softly fell onto the rug and landed on her bottom. With a groan, Dwight straightened his spine and sat on his knees in front of his wife. “I cannot help it,” he stated plainly, adoringly glancing at their animated children and offering no apology for doting on them. 

A warm smile spread across Caroline’s face. “I know you cannot,” she said softly. “But,” she then began, her tone more playful, “then it is fortunate they have a more sensible and serious mother, is it not?” 

Dwight’s laugh bounced off the walls of their home. “You consider allowing them to eat jellies before bed ‘sensible’?” he challenged with a smug smirk - the kind which people wore when they knew something they should not. 

Mrs Enys’ jaw dropped slightly and she glanced at her children with narrowed eyes; they had made a secret pact to keep their secret feastings between the three of them, knowing that Dr Enys would surely not approved of the indulgence, and one of them had betrayed confidence. 

“Meliora is very earnest,” Dwight supplied, reading his wife’s thoughts. 

“I wonder who on Earth could have passed on such a quality?” asked Caroline with a wry smile. 

Before Dwight could answer, he was caught - not knowing he was even being chased. “Tig! You’re it, papa!” Sophie exclaimed, kissing his cheek, before the girls scurried out of the room, their excited giggles echoing in the hall. 

Dwight sighed, half-tiredly and half-contentedly. 

Caroline gently placed her a hand on her husband’s cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “I could tell the girls you must do some research in your study?” Caroline offered with a sympathetic smile.

Her offer earned her a kiss. And another. And then another. Sighing as he broke the final kiss, Dwight said, “No, it is alright, I don’t mind. It only means I shall sleep more soundly tonight.” He rose to his feet, stretching his tired muscles. 

As he made his way out of the tea-room in search of his playmates, Caroline called, “Suppose I had other plans for you tonight?” Her tone was flirtatious and required no further questioning as to its inference. 

Dwight paused in the doorway and glanced at his wife, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Suddenly I find myself the very personification of energy,” he flirted before he exited the room. 

Caroline shook her head at the roars and piercing shrieks of laughter that quickly rang out in Killewarren’s ancient, once-civilised hallway but, in truth, she would now not have it any other way. 


	8. Homecoming

** December 1807 **

*********

“He’s coming!” young Sophie Enys shrieked out the window before popping her head back into the tea-room, an excited look in her eyes. “Papa’s coming!”

Caroline sighed from behind her book. “My love, I’ve told you already, Papa’s in London until Tuesday and it is only Saturday. And please, Sophie, do not hang out of the window, it is dangerous, as Papa would also tell you, were he here. Why do you not come sit with us and I shall read to you?” Caroline offered with a sympathetic smile, stroking the blonde curls of three-year-old Meliora, whose head rested peacefully on her Mama’s lap as she spoke softly to her plush doll that Aunt Demelza had made for her years ago. 

Sophie stayed pressed against the glass, pouting out her lower lip. “He’s coming,” she insisted in a half-whine, half-indignant cry. 

Caroline placed her book down on the chaise-lounge in order to be able to press the fingers of both her hands against her temples. It had been a long fortnight without Dwight, it had felt like a month; she was not used to dealing with the girls on her own and the household had not been keeping well in the winter months, which had meant many trips back and forth to Nampara, which only seemed to excite the Enys girls more. Meliora had only just recovered from a terrible cough which had frightened the life out of Caroline and she was quite beside herself when Dwight informed her he would be attending a medical conference he’d been invited to at the Royal London College of Physicians. Logically, Caroline knew that Dwight would never, ever have left if he had the slightest doubt of their daughter’s recovery, and her recovery was quite complete when he left last Wednesday, but she had really wanted him to stay. Caroline had decided to not join him and leave the girls with Nanny as she, too, was still recovery - as was half of their staff - and Meliora couldn’t possibly have been expected to travel so far so soon after being ill. And so the Enys women had all stayed, and it wasn’t all bad. The girls seemed to enjoy having their Mama’s undivided attention, as it was almost completely impossible for Caroline to get anything done around the estate with the girls at her feet. She had given up all attempts of productivity last Friday and accepted that she would simply have to be storyteller and hot-cocoa-maker - and sweet-giver, but the girls were not to tell their Papa about the sweet treats. 

Unfortunately, Sophie had just placed a raspberry jelly into her mouth when the tea-room door opened. “Papa!” she squealed, leaping from the window-ledge and sprinting across the room as fast as her legs could carry her, which was evidently very fast. 

Grinning from ear-to-ear and with a slight groan, Dwight picked up the running girl and enveloped her into a tight hug. “Hello, my little love, I have missed you,” he murmured, swaying her gently from side to side in their embrace, as though she were still a baby. Meliora quickly followed her sister and tugged on her papa’s breeches to demand her portion of attention. 

Dwight laughed at the action and placed Sophie down, before quickly crouching down himself and enveloping then both into a hug, his brows knitting together momentarily as the children enthusiastically flung their arms around him. 

“You did not send word that you were coming home,” Caroline tried to say accusingly, which was undermined by the smile on her face. Her eyes did narrow momentarily, though. “You know I hate surprises.” 

Dwight flashed her a grin as he continued to hug his daughters, who clung to either side of him. “I think you’ll be more fond of surprises when you see what I bought you in London, my love,” he placated, feeling quite proud of the jewels he had picked out. 

“Pwesents! Papa, do we get pwesents too?” Meliora asked innocently, her large blue doe eyes looking up at him. 

“_Presents_, darling,” Caroline gently corrected. 

Dwight had missed Meliora’s large blue eyes very much. “Of course, my darling. When have I never brought you a present home? Why on Earth would you think I would not?” he asked, tickling her side. 

Once she was finished squealing, Meliora shyly explained, “Because you were with the other fishmans.”

“_Physicians_,” Dwight corrected with a smile, meeting his snickering wife’s eye, who knew how much the doctor hated the task of fishing. “But that is no matter. I will always have time for you, and time to buy you presents,” he said gently, placing a quick kiss on the crowns of their heads before releasing them from his grasp. 

“And what about your wife, Dr Enys? Have you time for her?” Caroline only half-teased, quite jealous she had not yet received any affection from him. 

Dwight grinned as he rose from his knees before closing the distance between them. “Always, my love,” he murmured before pulling her to him by her waist and kissing her deeply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this story, even when I hadn't updated it in a very long time, I can't tell you how much it means to me. If you have any special requests/scenarios you'd like to see covered then please feel free to write them in the comments! Hope you enjoyed this short and sweet chapter! xo


	9. The Princess and The Potion Maker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff! With a teeny-tiny bit of smut at the beginning... but mostly just fluff. xo

** July 1810 **

********

Caroline’s hand eagerly roamed her husband’s body. He was not long home from his day’s work and she had immediately pounced on him, and he had welcomed the attack. They entered a familiar dance of desperate kisses and tugged garments, complete with gentle teasing of the other. 

Dwight slowly hitched up Caroline’s long nightgown, his hand leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

“Dwight,” Caroline moaned softly, tired of his teasing and desperate for his touch. A wicked smile flashed across Dwight’s face in the darkened room, the only light of which was that of the fire. 

Her nightgown had now gathered around her thighs and she whimpered quietly at the thought of where her husband’s hands would go next, when they heard:

Knock, knock, knock .

Dwight and Caroline froze and exchanged a glance.

Tap, tap, tap . 

“Sophie,” they agreed simultaneously in a whisper, recognising the pattern. 

“She can reach the doorknob, you know,” Caroline reminded her husband, reluctantly removing his hand from a precarious position. 

Just as she had done so, a small blonde girl entered the room, sniffling quietly and clutching a well-loved doll knitted for her by aunt Demelza. 

Behind Sophie appeared her younger sister, Meliora, who wore two small ribbons in her braided hair and mumbled something about being awoken by screaming.

Caroline thought absently how nice the ribbons Morwenna had made for Meliora for her sixth birthday last week looked in her hair, she would have to send Mrs Carne a thank you note.

“Mama, Papa,” Sophie whimpered. “I had a really bad dream, it was so horrible,” she then proceeded to burst into tears. 

Dwight swung his legs over the side of the bed and took several steps towards her, easily scooping her up into a hug and carrying her over to the bed, where he then set her down in the middle, between himself and her Mama. 

“Shh, my darling, it’s alright,” Caroline soothed, gently twirling her daughter’s ringlets with her fingers. 

“May I sleep with you tonight?” Sophie asked hopefully after she had calmed down a little. 

“Me too!” Meliora insisted, already approaching the bed.

The adults exchanged a glance, wherein it was reluctantly decided that the children could indeed sleep with them tonight. 

“In the morning,” Dwight promised in a whisper with a subtle wink. 

Caroline mouthed: “I look forward to it.” Her mouth curved into a devilish smile.

Meliora clambered onto the bed, not caring for her father’s knees which she rolled over with her whole weight without apology. Dwight grimaced and tried not to think about how the pain was likely because he was in his mid-forties. “Can we have a bedtime story?” Meliora asked as she pulled her father’s left arm over her front, like one may put on a seatbelt, and cuddled into it, having left her teddy bear in their bedroom down the hall, and it was too cold and dark to return. 

“Very well, you  may have one,” Caroline pointedly corrected, but she also knew they would categorically not sleep without one. “Which one should you like to hear tonight?” 

“‘The Princess who fell in love with the potion maker’!” the children both yelled enthusiastically. 

“Girls, you must keep your voices down, other people are sleeping,” Caroline chided, before letting out a tired sigh. “You really wish to hear that story again? I told it to you not three nights ago.” 

Meliora’s lip wobbled at the prospect of not hearing the most romantic story her six-year-old ears had ever known. “But Mama it is our favourite,” she mourned quietly.

Dwight immediately pulled his youngest daughter onto his lap, hating to see that little wobble of her lip whenever she got upset. “Do not fret, my sweet,” he soothed, placing a kiss in her hair. “We can tell you the story again.”

“We?” Caroline scoffed. “Who is this ‘we’ you speak of, Dr Enys? You may be the master of the house but I am the master of bedtime stories.” 

“Are you really?” asked, Dwight feigning consideration. In truth, there was no contest. Dwight often worked too late to read to his daughters, something he knew he should try to remedy before they grew out of them. They were already growing up so fast.

“I am aware it is quite unimaginable that my abilities should be so varied and impressive but yes, I really am,” Caroline said with a mock sigh of modesty. 

Dwight let out a laugh and grinned at her. Perhaps the story should be retold as ‘The potion maker who fell in love with the princess’, he thought. 

“Mama,” Sophie whined, not understanding why her parents thought now was a suitable time to have one of their classic, riddle-like conversations. “Can you begin the story?” 

A small chuckle escaped Caroline’s lips, it appeared that her eldest daughter had inherited her mother’s level of patience as well as her looks - she was so like Caroline had been as a child it almost made her shiver. 

Meliora, on the other hand, could not be more like her father, especially in temperament, but she had also inherited his icy blue eyes and her hair had darkened from blonde as a baby to a beautiful fawn colour. 

“Once upon a time in a faraway land, there was a princess who lived in a large castle. The castle was filled with flowers, biscuits, clothes, anything the princess desired. Nothing was too much for the King when it came to his daughter,” Caroline shot a look at Dwight which suggested that he and the King might have something in common, “and so one day he gifted her a little dog, which became her best friend. One day the princess’s dog became very sick, and so the princess had sent a letter to the elderly potion-maker for a tonic. But, the old potion-maker had left the realm and so a new potion-maker came to visit. He was much younger than the old man had been, almost as young as the princess. Anyhow, the potion-maker was immediately besotted with the princess and offered to be her personal-potion maker for her and her dog and-“ 

“-that is not what happened!” Dwight interjected, clutching his sides with laughter. 

The two young Enys girls frowned at their father, unsure why he would find such a romantic story so funny, especially when Papa was usually so romantic to Mama - he always brought her gifts and smiled at her whenever he saw her. “Yes it is, Papa,” Sophie insisted, being very familiar with this particular bedtime story. Why would Papa think it was not true?

Caroline shot Dwight a glance that was normally reserved for when her daughters misbehaved. Dwight recovered himself and sighed, leaning to kiss Sophie’s forehead. “I’m sorry, my love. I suppose my own Mama just told the story in a different way. Perhaps you can hear my version one night,” he offered. The girls seemed very interested in this and the doctor smirked in victory at his wife. 

Caroline told the rest of her story seamlessly and Dwight listened along with great interest. Once the story had reached its lovely end - the princess and the new prince now married with children - the two Enys girls fell asleep almost immediately, much to their parents’ glee. 

The glee did not last long, however, and Caroline found herself tossing and turning restlessly over an hour later. “My love,” she whispered into the darkness. “Are you awake?” 

“Of course I am awake,” came Dwight’s quiet reply to her left. “How Sophie does not wake herself up with that snoring is a medical marvel,” he whispered, spying the already long-limbed girl who was fast asleep with her mouth hanging ungracefully open. How ever is it possible for a seven year old girl to sound like a seventy year old drunkard? 

Caroline snickered. “I am amazed that Meliora is still asleep,” she murmured, eyeing the youngest child out of the corner of her eye, whose chest rose and fell evenly and silently. 

“She exerted all of her energy kicking the living daylights out of her Papa in her sleep, that is why,” Dwight supplied, rubbing his rib cage. 

Just then, he felt a subtle movement on the bed, he closed his eyes and prayed that they hadn’t disturbed the girls as they would likely be very grumpy tomorrow having been disturbed twice in one night. 

But soon his wife’s face appeared above his. “Come on,” she beckoned her husband, inclining her head to behind her. 

Ever so carefully, and with years of practice, Dwight seamlessly slipped out of the large bed and followed his wife on his tip toes. As they reached the chaise-lounge on the other side of the large room, he thought he knew what her plan was, but he was mistaken. 

Caroline plucked a few large pillows from the sofa and dropped them onto the rug in front of the fire, before fetching a thick, oversized blanket that Demelza had knitted them for Christmas last year from a chest in the corner. “Shall we finally get some sleep, my love?” Caroline asked her husband gently. 

He nodded and smiled, so many memories from this exact activity flooding his mind. 

“Do you remember when we used to do this often?” Mrs Enys asked him as she lay down on the comfortable make-shift bed. 

Dwight copied her and snaked his arms around her slim waist, her figure not much changed from her childbearing years. He rested his chin against her shoulder, the fire breathing warmth onto their faces. “I do,” he said a small, mischievous smile on his face. “Though we often slept here simply because we were too  exerted to move,” he remembered, his tone flirtatious. 

“Mm. I remember,” was Caroline’s comment as she squeezed her thighs together. 

“Perhaps in the morning once the children have gone...” Dwight suggested in a whisper in her ear, which sent shivers down her spine. 

“Yes,” Caroline agreed quickly. “Now, enough of this talk, Dr Enys. I am much too tired to be excited about your promises.” Dwight breathed a laugh. Caroline quickly turned over and kissed him, before resuming her position as the little spoon, basking in the warmth of the fire, the thickness of the blanket, the sound of her sleeping children and feel of Dwight’s arms wrapped tightly around her. She sighed in bliss; her life was bliss. “Goodnight,” she murmured with a yawn. 

Dwight yawned, too, only just realising how tired he felt. He snuggled closer to her. “Goodnight, my darling.”


End file.
